text:
Feeling his presence, hearing his footsteps, her heart beats faster.
Feeling his presence, hearing his footsteps, her heart beats faster.
(via cuffit)
More batman spankings…
Yeah… I wish…——————————————-See if I Care"Honey, turn the light off," he said, checking his watch. "I'm trying to sleep. It's almost twelve".She went on pounding at the keyboard, deaf at his request. Something had clicked wrong in her head while she was reading the last story. Her rebellious self unfolded, triggered by her mind's answer to the main character's actions. She didn't understand it, but she embraced the feeling."Please turn off the light," Mike said again. He didn't raise his voice, but even if the tone was matter-of-factly she read the annoyance and the frustration lying underneath."No." – she said simply."Do you need it?""No." – she said again."Then please turn it off.""No."She had a vague feeling that she was provoking him on purpose; she was pushing it, very aware of the discomfort she was causing him. And she also was aware that this scene would not have taken place before she had asked for rules to be established in the house. He did not refuse to take part in the project, but she hadn't been spanked either. She felt guilty for some of her actions. And her guilt raised the frustration in her, which lead to deliberate disobedience. Mike stirred in bed for a few minutes, as if trying to consider his next move. She knew he was. He was most probably debating on what to do next. And she knew his thoughts, the moment she saw him standing up: he wanted to end the argument; he didn't want to confront her. He switched the light off. Without even looking up, Jas continued to type madly at her computer.As he lay in bed again, she went for the switch and the light was on once more. Her statement read "you can't ignore me forever". She made it clear. Mike grumbled. A real grumble. An angry grumble which caused her to pray that he would finally do something; if not, this would become an argument, and they would be at each other's throats till morning."Do you need the light on?" – He asked once more, popping his head out from under the blanket. She didn't reply. She could bend the keys on the keyboard with the fury she was typing.She heard him sigh and could almost hear the internal fight he was trying to control. Without a word, he stood up and went for her, yanked her up by the arm."Common," he said.This wasn't right. A spanking should not happen because he was annoyed; a spanking should happen because she needed it and because he would understand that need. Because he loved her and he knew there was no way around it. It wasn't the case now. It made her furious. She snapped her arm free."Let me be," she said."I'm spanking you, even if I have to drag you and fight you," he added, grabbing her arm again. "Up!"Jas looked up at him, with all the defiance she could muster. And there was plenty of it in her eyes, in her face. She stood up. "I'm not running. You don't need to grab me like that."For a second he seemed to consider, trying to understand what she was at. Was she playing some kind of game again? He grabbed his jeans from the chair and slid the belt out of the loops. He looked at her expectedly."Yeah, spank me," she said. "See if I care. See if I give a damn." The rebel teenager buried deep inside was desperately pushing to come out. The association was perfect in her mind: teenager, used to get her ass tanned, but pretending not to care. She was so good at pretending she believed it herself.Mike raised his eyebrows at her. She unzipped her pants, pulled them down. It was the first time he didn't ask her to do it. She gave him a defiant look then pulled down her panties, to her knees, and, without a word, she bent over, hands on the bed."See if I care," she repeated. It was more to her this time, probably because she started to grow aware of what she was doing.Mike didn't reply, but let her play her game. He doubled the belt over, moved to her side. She thought she was in control. Let's see how you handle this, he mused. He grabbed her panties, yanked them down. Not because they weren't where they should have been, but because – he bent over slowly, whispering in her year – "You get spanked here because I say so, not because you want to." It was a strong kick at the first piece of the domino. He was going to break her from inside. She felt it. She felt that illusion of control slip through her fingers, but she fought the feeling back, like a kid trying to squeeze its fingers together hoping for the water not to drain down. She raised her eyes, fixed them stubbornly on the white wall in front.Mike watched her reaction. He hadn't been determined to break her before, but now he was. Without further ado, he moved to her left side and raised the belt. He raised it as high as he dared to. It was a challenge and he would not be beaten at it. The belt came down hard. She winced only. The belt snapped again against her bottom, but she kept looking forward, trying to detach herself from the pain.It would take some work to get to her, but he didn't mind. He went on spanking her, not having time to watch the welts build on her white skin. He wished he could see her face. But he watched her knuckles instead, turning white with the strength she was putting into grabbing the blanket tight into her fists. He also heard a muffled sob, which she couldn't control anymore. The belt fell, this time, on the curve under her butt. She yelped; fists tightened even more on the blanket; her bottom went forth and it took her more than usual to bring it back into position.He could be mean, if that's how she wanted to play. He cracked the belt again, on the same spot. Jasmine yelped. He didn't wait for her ass to come baak; he gave one more lick on the same spot again. And then again, and again. He watched her small body starting to collapse slowly in front of him, as she began to refuse to present her bottom again for punishment.He bent over her small body again, whispering in her ear: "Do you give a damn now? Hm?" She didn't answer, but tears dripped from her nose to the blanket. He played the bastard card in response. "Are you crying? See if I care." She sobbed out loud. "Bring your ass back. We are not finished when you want to; we are finished when I say so."She complied, but slowly, as if trying to find her way out of it in the meantime. Again he didn't wait for her to finish her thoughts – the belt landed hard on her upper thighs. Her arms shook and she let her torso rest on her elbows. Her forehead touched the pillow in front of her.Mike kept her on 'ignore', but his eyes traveled many times from her behind to her position. He could tell what was going through her mind. Now he could read her like a book."Please." – She whispered, between sobs."Come again?"She didn't repeat it. He didn't wait for a reply. He went on spanking. The welts built to an angry red."Enough," she said. Her hand flew back. He had reached her. Finally. Past the arrogance, the rebel wall, straight into her mind."Take your hand away."She did. He went on. She cried, quite loudly. She started twisting, hoping he would miss the spots that hurt so badly. He didn't."Please… Enough…"He stopped for a moment, giving her false hopes. Mike raised her wet chin, forced her to look up, into his eyes. "This is punishment, just like you wrote in your letter. This is not playing. This is you and me, not me and your alternate ego. And I decide when you had enough. Is that clear?"She nodded."Good," he added. "Now bring your bottom up again, please. *I* am not finished with you. I know you wanted to make your point. Now I am making mine."She complied. The rebel teenager was gone. He whipped her ass even after it had collapsed on the bed. The strokes were not hard anymore, but they felt horrible to her. He stopped and put away the belt. She didn't move but continued to sob into the pillow."Now turn off that light, please," he said.A few minutes later she cuddled next to him in bed, arms around his waist, head buried in his back. She could finally sleep.
The hairbrush lay on top of the red boxes that had been sent around for her perusal. She starred at it for a moment while her stomach did gymnastics. Okay so she had been late, but it wasn't as if she was out parting with the girls or meeting up with men. She had job to do, an important job where people were counting on her.
She stared at the offending object for a moment more before snatching it up. She had been about to throw it across the like a petulant teenager but the hard coolness of it in her hand stopped her. It was made from good wood and it had been expensive. Besides she was no stroppy young teen, she was a grown woman and she didn't have to put up with this.
"I won't do it," she said angrily, addressing her ire at the brush in her hand.
She put it down next to the boxes and smoothed down the front of her skirt of her smart business suit. Looking in the mirror she saw what others saw, a confident 30-something lady in-charge. Okay so she had a reputation for throwing her weight around, having a temper even, an image aided by her fiery red hair.
"You just have to tell him, 'no more,' you are not a child and men can't just treat women like that anymore. They don't. 'You won't.'" She addressed her remarks to the serious woman in the mirror who was looking back at her with hard calculating eyes.
"I met with the Prime Minister this morning," she said aloud, "Such women are not…"
She could never say the word. Why should she? It was not a word that had anything to do with her.
It's decided then, she thought giving the woman in the mirror an emphatic nod.
"Time to run a bath," she said easily, with a confident smile.
The water made a satisfying crash as she turned on the taps and the sound of running water filled the house. Then she tossed in half a dozen of her favourite bath crystals and went back into the bedroom to get undressed.
She got as far as her blouse and underwear with stockings before curiosity got the better of her. She opened the first box and began flipping over the pages. Ah yes, she thought, that old chestnut. Well that is an easy one I'll just…
In moments she was lost in thought, calculating every angle of the matter in hand and abandoned herself to her work as usual. She didn't come back until the sound of running water suddenly shut off. She jumped and clutched papers to her chest.
"You left the bath running." It was his voice; hard and keen. It sent a shiver down her spine as it always did.
"Oh I forgot," she said sheepishly; confidence, damn it.
"It nearly overflowed onto the floor," he accused.
"Sorry," she said, not sounding it. "I was reading some papers…"
"Of course you were," he cut her off, "Very conscientious of you, but I would have thought that it would keep until tomorrow given it is so late."
"It's important," she said defensively.
"Isn't it always?" He threw down his jacket onto the bed and took a step towards her.
"Look," she said, suddenly unable to recall the carefully prepared speech she had rehearsed in her head.
"Oh I'm looking," he smiled, but she noticed he was unbuttoning his sleeves instead of just taking off his shirt.
"You're right, it's late. We can talk about this tomorrow. You must be tired," she kept her voice firm and even as if she were addressing one of her meetings.
"I am tired. Tired of you breaking promises and never calling to say you will be late." He was nearer now and his once rugby-hardened frame was intimidating.
"You're never tired," he accused.
"Look I'm… I'm sorry. I was delayed. The PM…"
"Called earlier," he said, folding his arms like a prison wall. "He was surprised you hadn't got home hours ago."
"My office…" she began.
"I called them. They said you had left."
"Oh," she pulled that face; the cute sideways one that she used when she screwed up. He hadn't seen it in a while. She was too big for it these days.
Her brain worked overtime and she searched hard for the woman who juggled billions and shifted the resources of nations.
"I had to…" her sentence died as she saw him pick up the hairbrush.
"Come here," he ordered,
"You can't I'm…"
He tipped her across his lap easily as he sat on the stool facing her mirror.
"Darling, please," she wailed.
He answered by hooking his thumb into the waistband of her black lace knickers and drawing them down her stockinged legs. Her tight youthful bottom peeked out from under the hem of her blouse and he patted it admiringly.
"I know I agreed to… I… but don't you think…" She was eager and 20 again. Earnestly explaining things to a dumb oaf of a rugby player and telling him what he should and shouldn't do.
The brush cracked down hard across both domes of her prone bottom.
"Ooh, darling, please… ow," she groaned and then shrieked at the second impact.
"I don't care who you are at work. I don't care who you think you are," he said sternly, spanking her again hard, "Here you are my wife and you will submit to our rules."
"Ow… yah, don't… aiyee," she gasped in quick succession in response to the slow volley of spanks crisply assaulting her bottom.
"Are you telling me you are too big for your boots now for this type of handling?" He paused, the brush hovering above the by now quite red bottom.
"No, but…" she said in a small girlish voice.
"Well alright then," he said in the tone of a man who had just supplied a crossword puzzle answer to a flummoxed wife and started another round of spanking.
"Ooh, this is so unfair," she wailed, spluttering to sobs.
"Of course it is," he replied, spanking her again and again until she yelped at every impact.
The rest of the spanking took a while and by the time she he set her back on her feet she was looking very meek.
"I'm sorry," she wept and he allowed her to hug into him.
"Silly girl," he soothed.
"Can I…? Can we?" She said in her cute voice.
"I think my cherry-bottomed little minx can go and stand in the corner before she does anything else," he growled.
"Yes Sir," she lisped.
He watched while she obeyed, her cute red bottom peeking out under her blouse as she raised her arms to put them on her head and then he nodded in satisfaction before heading to the shower.
On the way he let some of the too-hot water out of her bath to allow in some cold. It would be ready for her in a while. Then he changed into a bath robe.
Somewhere a phone called him back. He was pleased to see that she made no attempt to move and he teased her by letting it ring for another couple of beats.
"Hello," he said finally. "The minister, yes she is, but she can't come to the phone right now. Is it urgent?"
She strained to hear who it might be from the tone of voice reduced as it was to a muffled squeak from where she stood.
"Constituency courtesy call… oh yes thank you, I'll tell her."
He put the phone down and turned to look at the nation's youngest ever cabinet minister where she stood fit to burst in the corner.
"Another admirer wondering if you might be available for something or other. He is going to call your office for an appointment and I should bloody-well think so," her husband growled.
"Yes Sir," she said meekly.
"Good girl," he said, pleased to see that she was finally letting go.
She sat on the barstool pretending not to be interested in him. A single fact that encouraged him to believe she was not one of those enterprising young women who were offering their professional services. Not that he had anything against such girlsper se, but paying for it was against his personal code and in any case it felt too much like a wank.
The trouble was, although he was not bad looking for a 40-something businessman, he was hardly the kind of guy to usually turn the head of a 20-something goddess. Unless of course it was his £500 suit, which brought him back to his first thought.
The girl was blonde and although he usually went for brunettes, he had to say that the colour suited her. But it wasn't her hair that had first grabbed his attention, it was her hips. A perfect sphere defined by a vanishing waist, perched on the barstool as if they might roll off at any moment. Then even as he watched her she had leaned forward to show off her gut twisting bottom and that was before he realised that she had some interest in him.
John glanced in the bar mirror and tried to gauge what she saw in him, meal ticket or suave older man. His hair was too grey, although as his barber said often enough, at least he had a lot of it. But he had to say that he was in good shape for a man of any age, let alone for one pushing 50. A fact complemented by the suit. Maybe his nose was too big, but then again… he turned his head slightly as casually as he could, it would pass. If he could change anything, apart from his age that is, it would be his height. At an inch above the average it was neither one thing nor the other. Oh what the hell, this business trip has been boring enough, just go with it and see, he decided.
He crossed the room to the other end of the bar as if he had just bought the place and grabbed the barman's attention.
"Do you have anything older in the Oban line?" He asked, carefully studying the 12-year-old scotch.
"No Sir, but I can do you an 18-year-old Talisker," the man replied. "Expensive."
John fancied that the man's eyes flicked to his right at the girl. Oh well, so what if he knew what his game was.
"Good enough," John said casually and then glancing left, he added to the girl, "Been a long day, I need a decent drink."
She had blue eyes a man could swim in. She was definitely out of his league.
"I know what you mean," she purred.
John nodded, ready to retreat. Then smoothly he added, "Oh, can I get you something?"
"Can I try what you're having?" She ventured with just a hint of nervousness. An act, he was sure, but he liked the demure type.
"Sure," John agreed, nodding at the barman.
"Can I have ice in mine?" She made it sound like she thought he might say no.
The man winked and went away to fix it.
"I noticed you come in," she said as she took her first sip. If she was going to add something it was lost in a bout of coughing. "Damn, there goes my cool. This is horrible."
"An acquired taste," he said with a shrug. "So you noticed me?"
She blushed and nodded.
"Well I noticed you, which is perhaps more understandable in the circumstances."
Circumstances? What circumstances he berated himself, what are you talking about you idiot.
"My dad liked whiskey. It makes me think of him," she said to change the subject.
"So I remind you of your Dad?" He knew the type, but it could still go either way.
It might be that she was just lonely and scared in a strange city. The hotel was full of such people.
"Not exactly," she giggled.
"Thank goodness for that," he laughed, "I'm not that old."
"No you're not, which is a shame in a way," she lisped.
He cocked an eyebrow until she broke into laughter.
"Kidding," she said punching him lightly on the arm. "What you think? I was the kind of girl with daddy issues?"
"Maybe," he said with the hint of a laugh.
"Disappointed?" She asked, taking his arm.
"I'm easy," he said.
He was feeling a little uncomfortable now. This was going too fast.
"And so am I," she said with a grimace, "That's what you're thinking isn't it."
He shrugged. "You know, a boy alone in a strange city has to be careful," he added in mock feminine voice.
She broke into rolling laughter.
"I'm sorry, I can be such a naughty girl sometimes," she finally managed to say.
"How naughty?" He sipped at his Talisker and waited.
She licked her lips and studied him for a minute. The barman was nearby pretending not to listen. She glanced at him and he moved away.
"Sometimes I can be very naughty, but only if I have a daddy to keep me line," she whispered.
"John," he said, extending his hand. It was very English, but in her own way, so was she.
"Jo Carmichael," she replied shaking his hand. She understood.
"Shall we have another drink Ms Carmichael?" He asked.
"In your room maybe; you do have a room here?" She took his arm.
"Complete with minibar," he said with a gesture towards the lifts.
"You won't let me drink too much will you?" She said with a giggle.
"Oh what happens if I do?" He asked conversationally as he led her away.
"You have to smack my bottom of course," she lisped.
His world surged and he even became a little lightheaded. This was too good to be true, he thought, taking in her magnificent behind. His last rational consideration was 'honey trap.'
Once in the room they were quick to embrace.
"I don't exactly do this that often," he said kissing her firmly.
"No I… No, there is no one at the moment," he said, trying not to sound flustered.
"Now that does surprise me. How did you get away," she purred kissing him back.
It was rare these days that mere proximity to a fully clothed woman got a rise out of him, but up close she was even more beautiful.
Embracing her again he reached for the zip on her dress; a red clingy number that flattered her figure. Not yet ready to presume he paused, toying with the tab for a moment.
Jo responded by inclining her head and kissing him, so he drew the zip down allowing her to step out of her dress. He twitched.
"Can I have that drink I mustn't have?" She giggled.
"Aren't you afraid I might spank you?" He said in a low voice.
"I'm only afraid that you won't." She didn't meet his eyes, but pursed her lips and looked coyly about her.
"You are a naughty girl aren't you? Perhaps I'll give you a spanking you won't like for playing me."
Her eyes widened a touch and something like fear alighted there. Or was it excitement, he wondered?
"If you can make me cry I'll do anything you want. If you can make me beg I'll do anything…" she was panting now, "at all."
John narrowed his eyes and considered all the angles. Maybe this was just too good to be true.
"Are you alone at the hotel?"
"I'm with another girl," she said impatiently, clinging in to him. "You won't tell her will you?"
He relaxed.
"That depends how good you are," he whispered, giving her a smack on the behind.
It was hard and sharp and she squeaked, but then closed her eyes and sighed a little. Okay, he thought, she is for real.
Sitting down he drew her unresisting over his lap and fondled her behind. She squirmed a little and clung on to his thighs. Reaching for the elastic of her waistband his throat tightened he felt ever so slightly dizzy; a feeling that had been all too rare in his life since his twenties. Then, all so slowly, he drew her semi-transparent lacy nothings down like a veil over the smoothest round bottom he had ever handled.
"I've done this before," he said once her bare bottom was a tightly split sphere in his lap and smooth beyond dreams.
"I bet," she said, squirming.
He watched her sparsely-haired sex peep in and out of view between her thighs.
"I mean, I don't know you so banter aside, how hard do you want to play?" Under the circumstances he had to ask. "With a girl I know well, I don't often play at it at all, if you follow?"
"I meant what I said. I'm a bad girl," she said, suddenly serious. "Make me cry Daddy. If you can."
He spanked her crisply with a relaxed palm. Her bottom was firm and resistant against his hand. The red mark supported the sensation that he had spanked her hard and he enjoyed the tiny bubbles of flesh that quickly formed where he had struck her. The girl, however, had not reacted.
He slapped her again, harder this time; almost as hard as he was able. This time she took a sharp breath through her nose and her bottom yielded a little. He twitched violently, suddenly constrained by his trousers.
"Perhaps I should get undressed first," he said.
"I love the suit, it makes you boss," she groaned, but added quickly, "But you're in charge."
This time even she felt him hard beneath her.
After several slow spanks that turned her bottom from pale to dark pink all over, he picked up the pace, even managing to spank her harder so that she wriggled and danced in his lap. He got to see her sex more often now and could not remember the last time he had seen a woman so obviously aroused. The other thing that struck him, was how incredible hot her bottom was, it sizzled to his touch. He had forgotten this part. It had been so long since he had spanked a girl this hard with just his hand.
The trouble was, his arm was getting tired and his palm stung as much as her bottom must be.
"Not wimping out on me are you?" She was panting and there was a faraway groan to her voice.
God, she can take it anyway, he thought.
"Is that anyway to talk to Daddy?" He growled.
"No Sir," she lisped, but he sensed she was lost within herself somewhere.
He stopped then and removed his jacket while she squirmed on his lap. His right armpit was damp. It felt strange to feel so localised an exertion. That's when he remembered the tennis shoe in his bag by the bed. He always brought it in case he had time for the hotel gym. It was new and unused.
After retrieving it without tipping the girl onto the floor he patted it against her bare bottom.
"Oh Sir," she said in a mock whine, "Don't, please, I'm sorry."
He knew she didn't mean it, but in any case asked her, "You want to go?"
"Oh God no, you bastard, don't tease." Her distress was genuine this time.
He flicked the flat side of the soft shoe down hard across her bottom and she gasped aloud for the first time. The change in colour was dramatic and welcome in his eyes. Only the sound disturbed him. The hard thwack must have been heard far beyond the room. It didn't stop him.
"What did you call me?" He said with synthetic anger.
"Nothing Sir, oh, I'm sorry," she lisped.
He spanked hard and then harder several times in a row. His arm now reinvigorated. He knew the rapid assault was somewhat amateurish, but it was too satisfying an impulse not follow.
She jerked and grunted in response, wagging her bottom like a happy dog and thrusting it upwards to meet the swats. Her bottom held a tomato sheen now and he noticed that the shock-pimples were tighter and more pronounced.
"You had better be," he snapped as he spanked her again and again.
Then to his surprise she spluttered to a sob and began to cry.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she wept; grinding her hips into him as she came.
He stopped and again enjoyed the heat of her bottom on his hand.
"You don't have to stop," she sobbed. "I mean, you can do whatever you want."
He pulled her up by her hair and wondered what he had done with his condoms. She didn't wait but reached for his groin and in an impossibly short time was sucking on his erection like he didn't know what.
Given the state of his arousal, he expected to come quickly, but she seemed to know when to hold back and showed no signs of being eager to finish it. Looking down he saw the way that the two vivid red domes of her bottom protruded back as she worked on him.
"I have to spank you again," he said. It was true, he was obsessed now.
Without the least demure, she crawled back into his lap and thrust her bottom back up at him.
If anything, this time the spanking was longer and harder. It certainly was if her tears and sobbing was anything to go by. So distressed did she seem at times, that he felt obliged to go easy or stop altogether. Then she would look around and plead with her eyes.
It took three bouts of extended spanking and her getting on her knees to pay him homage before he came. He could not believe how eagerly she milked every last drop to swallow as he exploded into her mouth.
When they had both got their breath back she said, "How do you want me next?"
The next morning John awoke to find her gone. Oh well, he thought, I am not sure I could have stood the pace anyway.
He wasn't one for room service. It cost more than it was worth to him. So he showered quickly and headed down to breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Just as he got there he saw her coming out of the lift. She was with another woman, not quite as beautiful as her, but more than just attractive. Jo hadn't seen him and he wondered if he should hang back or skip breakfast. Then he saw the other woman take her hand and lean forward for a quick passionate kiss.
At that moment John and the girl's eyes met and she blushed. John gaped at her for a moment and she blanched. Then with a shrug she walked right past him.
"Where did you get to last night?" Jo's lover asked as they drew level.
Jo pulled a wincey face sideways at John without her friend seeing and said, "Oh I… eh had to catch up with Daddy."
"You came back late. You woke me," the woman said in irritation.
"I'm sorry," Jo pouted, adding in a whisper that none but her lover and John could hear. "Perhaps you should spank me later."
John grinned and hung back to let them get ahead. They didn't get too far before Jo paused and glanced back. Again without being seen she blew John a kiss and grabbed her behind mouthing a silent 'ouch' and offering him a wink.
John ducked out to get breakfast elsewhere and that was last he ever saw of her. He often wondered what Jo's friend made of the undoubted bruises on her lover's bottom when she went to spank her. He was willing to bet that she suffered, although in all probability enjoyed every moment of it.
By Sarah Thorne©
He stood at the edge of the bed, the first rays of the morning sun just beginning to peek through the window, and watched her sleep. He was most interested in how she was going to react to what he was about to do. In all of their years of dating and marriage he had never suspected what she had confided in him a month earlier after a night of drinking and marathon all night lovemaking….her deepest, darkest fantasy. He remembered her profuse blush and nervousness as she stumbled through her confession. It had taken him aback completely, his sweet, demure little angel girl, so childlike in innocence and naivety, had deep, kinky fantasies that he'd never even fathomed she could imagine in her sweet little head. He thought of all the things they could have been doing all this time. The plan began churning in his mind almost immediately right after she had told him. Her secret fantasy was to be taken by a complete stranger…possibly being kidnapped or held captive somehow…. a mixture of fear and excitement rolled into one. A stranger who would ignore her pleadings and force her body to betray her in the most pleasurable of ways. He did know, however, that she had no desire to be hurt, which was one thing that made this particular fantasy nearly impossible to ever happen. Real strangers forcing upon a helpless woman almost always desire to cause abject pain and humiliation, not pleasure, and terror in their victims. He knew she would be afraid at first, not knowing what was going to happen, but that would fade as his little plan unfolded.He had taken the day off of work. She didn't know, of course. He had left at 4:30 a.m., his usual time, for his normal commute was an hour. She was groggily awake at that point, stumbling to the door to see him off as she did every morning. He knew she always went back to bed for a few hours, especially on one of her own off days, which today was just that for her. He had left for about an hour and then returned, quietly letting himself back into the house. It was a huge plus that she was such a heavy sleeper. An even bigger plus that she slept nude, and on her belly at that! It made his job much easier. The night before he had attached restraints to each leg of the bed while she showered, and then shoved them under so she wouldn't see them. He had deliberately not shaved that morning also and had dabbed on a bit of different cologne to add to the confusion and unknown for her. He really wanted to refrain from using his voice, but knew he would have to speak some so he decided that a whisper in her ear would suffice or a low, gravelly voice when speaking became necessary.It was time. He slipped on the ski mask, lest by slim chance she awoke and saw him while he was doing his work. Silently, he pulled one restraint out from the side of the bed and only had to move one arm mere inches to be able to clamp the soft leather around her wrist. She sighed heavily and stirred slightly. Even if she awoke now, she was caught by one arm. He moved to the other side swiftly and started to do the same with the other arm and restraint as her eyes fluttered in that half unconscious state of sleep. He had just secured her wrist when her eyes registered realization at the snapping of the buckle. Her eyes grew wide as he knew it was her greatest fear to awaken to an intruder standing over her bed. "Who are you?" she barely choked out, testing the restraints. "Who are you? What do you want? Let me go!"He only stood and looked down upon her struggling form. "My husband will be home soon!" she lied and he just chuckled, moved to the foot of the bed and proceeded to restrain her ankles in the same fashion as her wrists. She began to kick but he managed to hold down each leg and strap them without getting kicked in the face. She started to scream and he immediately straddled her back, hand over her mouth, lips close to her ear,"Do not do that again or I will gag you. Do you understand?" He didn't think anyone would be able to hear her even if she did scream, unless they came to the door, but he couldn't risk the cops coming. How embarrassing that would be! He had no intention of making her scream anyway, at least not in pain.She nodded rapidly and he let go of her mouth then took the bandanna out of his back pocket. As he placed it over her eyes she gave a small cry of dismay and said, "No, no…please! What do you want? Take anything you want!"
"I am taking exactly what I want," he whispered as he tied the bandanna behind her head over her auburn hair. He felt her shudder slightly and smiled. Getting up, he safely removed the ski mask and collected two pillows, adjusting her so that they cradled her beautiful hips, lifting up that lovely bottom of hers and exposing everything she had. His fingers touched her shoulders, tickling lightly, causing her to jump a bit, and he trailed slowly down her back with fingertips, pleased to see goosebumps form over her flesh. Then he got to her bottom, her legs tensing in a useless attempt to close. Her luscious, full gorgeous bottom. How he did love it so. He used both hands to knead firmly. He noticed her wetness between her legs in her secret spot and smiled wickedly. His bad girl!"Please sir!" she pleaded again, wiggling that beautiful ass of hers under his squeezing grip. "I am due at work this morning, very shortly. If I don't show up….oooooohhh!" His finger pushed up into her wetness, deep, probing. He didn't answer her obvious lie. Obvious to him, of course, because he knew she was off today. Her squirms increased. "Oh sir please! Please don't hurt me!""I don't plan to hurt you, my sweet," he said as he continued to finger her deeply, enjoying immensely her rapid arousal which she tried unsuccessfully to hide with weak protests. His fingers pulled out and he trailed her juices down one thigh and back up the other, then over her twin mounds as he leaned and whispered, "I plan to use you thoroughly, my dear." she whimpered at his words. " Every part of you. I will have you begging for more while begging for me to stop."
She shivered and whimpered again. He left the room and went into the kitchen to sit. It would be good to make her wait and think about the situation. And that's exactly what she did. Who was this man and what did he want with her? Why did he want her? It seemed as if he did not intend to hurt her. It was strange, but she was more curious now than scared about what this stranger wanted. And curse her body! She couldn't believe the incredible arousal she was feeling and she was so wet between her legs. Would he rape her? For some reason he seemed intent on making her feel good. How come she was slightly enjoying this? It confused her.He, on the other hand, was lost in his own thoughts. One of the things he wanted to do was spank her luscious, creamy fanny. One of his own desires that he had never confessed to her and he was a bit unsure how she would handle it.He would have to pay close attention to her body language and responses. She had definitely surprised him within the last month! He certainly did not want to beat her, or hurt her either and had no plans to do such, but a slight sting on her bottom would be nice, a slight shade of glowing pink, the heat radiating….the idea made him stiff with desire.He watched the clock and heard slight movements in the bedroom. He smiled at the thought of her trying to break free. An excuse to spank her! He stood and strode back into the bedroom and watched from the doorway with amusement at her trying to pull away, her blindfold slightly askew. From the angle he was standing, she couldn't see him so he approached her quickly and pulled the blindfold back down over her eyes completely, leaned down to her ear and said, "Trying to break away will cost you, my dear."Immediately she stiffened. "Please, please don't hurt me."He patted her behind decisively. "Just a small spanking is all for a bad girl like yourself, with my belt."And he took it off as she squirmed and wiggled with vigor. "Noooo, noooo…" pleas fell on deaf ears as she trembled deliciously. He wasn't going to beat her, or even really spank her all that hard, but she didn't know that. He took the supple leather and placed the tip between her shoulder blades and slowly, very slowly dragged it down her spine. She shuddered harshly, whimpering, struggling even more, fearing the implication that the belt had in her mind. It was all part of the mind game. "Please," on the verge of tears, this was the only word she seemed to know. He brought the leather up to her lips, "Kiss it," he instructed.She turned her head to the opposite side to which he gave her thighs a couple of sharp slaps, causing her legs to jerk as she cried out in surprise. Again he held the belt to her trembling, rosy lips, "Kiss it!" She did so and he said, "Now,ask to feel it on your bottom.""Nooo… noooo," she cried again and once more he gave her thighs some attention with the palm of his hand. "Please, sir! Oh, please!""Ask!"Her whole body quaked and he noticed a single tear trickle out from beneath her blindfold. Trying once more, she said, "Please, sir."He waited a moment until she mustered up the courage and his manhood leaped up hearing the sweet, innocent voice say, "Please…will you sp-spank m-me with your belt,sir?" barely audible.He stood at the side of the bed, over her trembling body, her quivering mounds, raised the strap and brought it down over creamy, firm flesh. He made sure it wasn't hard, he didn't want to beat her by any means, but she gasped, confirming the sting he knew the leather possessed. Again he brought it down, her gasp louder, body jerking. Her bottom was only barely a pinkish hue where the belt had fallen and there were no stripes at all, for he was merely swatting her with it, really, and not hitting her hard at all. She wasn't used to it, which made the sting a bit more prominent, and also it was simply the idea of being spanked, he was certain, which made her react in such a way. Once more, across the fullness of her raised fanny, then twice in a row, quickly, causing her to cry out and wiggle profusely. What a lovely sight! He thought to himself as he brought it down this time right on that tender area where her fanny creased and met the back of her thigh. She cried a bit louder, adding, "Please! Please! It stings, sir! Please, no more!"He did stop, not wanting to overdo it. Her body still quivered delightfully, but she glistened in moisture between her legs. He massaged her pristine twins, surprised a bit at the heat emanating from it. Had he overdone it after all? She moaned slightly, seemingly enjoying the rubbing he was giving her, so he continued for a few minutes, partially out of guilt and partially out of desire, then moved his hands down, finding her so very wet and pushed his fingers into her deeply as she sucked in her breath sharply. He wiggled his fingers inside furiously until he had her squirming and panting, nearly off the pillows, her legs tensing in their fruitless effort to close, his other hand snaking down and finding her hidden kernel of pleasure to her very loud gasp. Her bottom wiggled even more, vocalizations growing and they weren't in protest. He stroked her inside walls expertly while his other fingers played and coaxed her secret hardness. Her breath quickened, face buried in the bedsheets, arms pulling at the restraints, legs tensing and shaking in heightened arousal. He worked her body faster, mercilessly, knowing eventually that it would betray her. And it didn't take long. She lifted her head, drew in a sharp breath, held it a second and then rocking best she could in her restrained condition, raspy voice filling the room in orgasmic laments. Her wet walls squeezed and released his fingers over and over, while his other fingers continued to manipulate her extreme sensitivity well after her orgasm had ended, causing interesting gasps, moans and body movements in an effort to escape the stimulation that had become nearly unbearable. He gave her mercy eventually, kissing her still warm bottom and scratching his beard up against it lightly. She lay nearly still, content that this man obviously had no intention of hurting her. That was until she felt a single, slippery finger slowly enter her bottom. She tried to pull away and of course couldn't. She tried not to make a sound but wasn't very successful and vocalized her protests. He gave a single slap to a thigh and she hushed, trying to remain still but it did no good. He probed slowly, gently, stretching her slightly as she gripped the sheets and groaned. He moved his body up hers, fingers still exploring, and said in her ear, "You're so tight here. Have you ever been penetrated here before?" knowing she hadn't.She whimpered slightly, not answering, not knowing where he was going with this and hoping it was not in the direction she feared. She tightened around his finger and gasped as he stretched her again, just slightly."Please, sir, please, don't….don't rape me there…" she said, voice trembling. She did like the sensation just a bit, although she was not about to admit it. It was slightly uncomfortable, yet strangely enjoyable. But something larger than a finger? She couldn't imagine…"Don't worry," he told her soothingly. "I have no plans to invade you like that." He continued his exploration a bit longer, this new for the both of them, as she gasped and squirmed and panted occasional weak protests, then pulled out and left her empty. He went to the bathroom immediately and washed his hands very thoroughly with liquid soap, then returned, noticing that her bottom had faded to a very light, pinkish hue. He would take care of that in a few minutes. "Now," he continued talking in a low, deep voice. "I am going to untie you, but know that the door is locked. You will be compliant and obey, or I will use my belt again and this time it will be much harder. Do you understand me?"She nodded. She couldn't explain it, but she wasn't afraid of him anymore."No funny stuff or you will sorely regret it," he said, trying to sound as threatening as possible. She nodded again.First, he unrestrained her wrists only, only to put them behind her back and tie them there. Then he undid her ankles and helped her to her feet. She stood before him, blindfolded, arms behind her back, in all of her trembling nakedness. "You stand right there until I tell you otherwise," he ordered and began to remove his own clothing. When he had them off completely, he gently eased her to her knees and rubbed the tip of his hardness over her moist lips."Open up, darling," he said and she did so obediently. He used her warm wet mouth to meet his desire, holding her head with his hands and moving her as he wanted. Her face upturned to him, blindfold still on but the sight of her full, luscious lips surrounding his manhood increasing his yearning even more. He couldn't hold off very long, her mouth was so soft and warm. Soon, he was moaning as he pulsed inside of her. She swallowed compliantly, a bit of his seed trickling down her chin and on to her heaving breasts. Slowly, reluctantly did he pull away while she silently, meekly knelt in front of him. He pulled her back up, sat on the edge of the bed and easily pulled her across his lap."No… no….don't spank me again!" As his hand came down with a resounding SMACK! She jolted slightly over his lap as he began to reign moderate slaps on her pinkening cheeks. Her legs kicking up slightly, feet drumming the carpet. His left arm held her tightly, as she had no use of her hands. Soon she was squirming quite a bit, begging for mercy, which he gave her temporarily. He used his fingers to stroke and probe her incredible wetness, fingers deep inside then out, focusing his attentions on her growing sensitive hooded hardness until she was beside herself, moaning and squirming over his knee. He used his left hand, elbow resting enough on her back to keep her in place, and began smacking her pink cheeks while bringing her up, up,up….then over the top as she tumbled in orgasmic bliss, her body rocking over his lap, crying out loudly in intense pleasure. He stroked the last of her quivers from between her thighs then once more fondling her glowing bottom as she purred. He wondered if she knew it was him, but when he undid her wrists, laid her back and the bed and removed her blindfold, her eyes were wide with complete surprise. "Allen!"He smiled at her. "How did you like that, my love?"She gave him a shove. "You scared me half to death!"He buried his face in her neck and murmured, "You didn't act scared, baby. You acted like you were enjoying yourself quite a bit."She blushed despite herself. He ravaged her mouth, lifting her bottom up and sinking into her depths. It wasn't long before both of their cries filled the room and they lay cradled by eachother and the warmth of the afternoon sun that was shining through the window.
Wicked Man By Sarah Thorne© "Please?" It wasn't so much a question as an appeal. And, no, I wasn't being spanked when I mouthed it. By that point in the day I had already been spanked several times and the day before, my 'please' was taken and acted upon, a window (and blinds) closed, grudgingly, but not before a few loud smacks were traveling down the driveway. Thankfully, it was a request granted, as not long after that someone came to the door (just as we were about to get busy ~grin~) which was located merely feet from the exact window that had been open moments earlier. Although, really, I don't think he gave a hoot who saw or heard. But this 'please' was in regards to a requisition he was refusing to grant. Humored by it, of course, by my apprehension of being spanked otk in a high back armless chair in the center of the room. Not really scared, per se, but all of the other spankings, playful in nature, had been on the couch…or bed. I had security beneath me, holding me up, even if it was simply a psychological security, it felt physical as well. But this spanking was supposed to be more serious in nature (didn't turn out that way but at the moment I didn't know that) and I feared having nothing to hold on to, nothing solid holding me, just completely dependent on his legs; extremely vulnerable in that state, something I know did not escape him. "Why don't you want to try the chair?" he asked. "Just not for this spanking? Not this one? Please?" No answer. "Please? Please?" He sorta chuckled, but no answer was forthcoming. His attention turned back to the television. He was lying stretched out on the couch, on his back, head resting on the couch's arm, and turned slightly toward the tv. I was sitting on the other end, at his feet, watching him, biting my lip. I really did not want to be completely unbalanced for that particular spanking. "Please?" again, innocently. He looked at me and chuckled again, but said nothing. Actually, no answer was a good thing. It meant he was giving credence to my appeal. Again, eyes back to the tv. My bottom still hurt from the last two spankings, given only hours apart. He really liked those sit spots. But the arnica pills I'd been taking all week as a precaution (it had been a looooong time) were working too well, giving me all the soreness with virtually no visual indication of such. Okay…time for bigger guns. I crawled up the backside of the couch, behind him, and wiggled myself under his arm, head on his chest, giving him a beseeching look, "Please? Please, not for this spanking?" He hugged me to him, kissed the top of my head and said, "I think we'll use the chair." Of course he did. And on top of that announcement, he made me wait. And when I was least expecting it, he said, "Go get the chair and set it right there." He pointed to a spot in the middle of the living room. I looked at him and didn't move. 'The chair…" he said again, smirking. Smirking! "Nooooo…pleeeeeeeese……" "There's one in there," he pointed past the kitchen, ignoring my whine. Reluctantly, I stood up and shot him a look, which, of course, didn't phase him other than to amuse him. Slowly I walked the chair back to the living room and sat it down. One last time as he got up off the couch, "Please?" He simply sat in the chair, the most smug look on his face. I had taken off my bra earlier for comfort and was just in a t-shirt and panties. He reached and pulled the panties down and hiked the long t-shirt (which was his, actually) up into my hands. I pulled it back down in a moment of modesty. He gave me this incredulous look and pulled it back up, eyebrow raised, daring me to pull it down again. I did hold it there for a second and then gradually began to inch it back down. If he noticed, he said nothing. He patted his lap and over I went, the t-shirt riding all the way up to my chin. I couldn't exactly do anything about it. I am so short that my feet were nowhere near the floor and I was practically doing a handstand. VERY unbalanced. This was exactly what I did not want and exactly what he did want. He started talking to me about school and my grade and staying focused while rubbing the thick paddle ball paddle over my raised bottom. Now, this wasn't one of those really thin, generic paddle ball paddles. It was one of the original ones that I found at Cracker Barrel. Almost as thick as a ping pong paddle, though not as big a round. Then he started spanking me. Now, mind you, I was already tender from Daddy spanking rachel earlier so the kicking and 'owing' took no time to get started. Honestly, I answered his questions but do not remember 99% of what was said to me. I kept forgetting to add 'Sir' and therefore got smacked on the thighs as a reminder each time and a 'what did you say?'. I do remember one line, however, as he actually stopped spanking to relay it. "It is most important that you take care of yourself. And I am serious about that." Something along those lines. "Yes sir." He reached under and fondled the underside of a hanging breast. My hands were still on the floor…lifting them would mean falling on my head so it was just as well as being restrained. He checked between my legs. "My, my are we wet?" I moaned, not about to answer that. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! spanking me again, my feet kicking up, "Owwwwww…owwwwww…." "Is my naughty girl turned on from getting her bare fanny spanked?" I didn't answer and sensed movement as he raised the paddle. "Noooooo…..noooooooo….." "Are you aroused by your spanking?" "I don't know," I responded. "Am I?" It was sincere, not a smartass answer. I swear! He was silent a moment. I'm not sure, but I think I surprised him with my answer. Then I heard him start laughing and I started laughing too. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! "You find that funny?" while wielding that horrible paddle, my feet flying again. Gads, I couldn't even reach back! "Nooo….nooooo…..I don't, noooooooo….." "No?" smacking not ceasing. "No sir! No sir! Oooowwwwww! Ouch! Stop! NO SIR!" He stopped, lifted me up and I stood at his right side, hair all tossled, pulling that shirt down to cover myself, not looking at him. He was watching me, I could feel it. "A thank you," he said. I looked at him. "What?" "A thank you." Fleetingly through my mind Does he mean get on my knees? And actually, the thought to do so was almost acted upon. Almost. "Thank you," I said. "For?" "Thank you for my spanking, " in a quiet voice. His smile was too broad. He was too proud. He kissed my lips and then said, "Turn around. Bend and put your hands on the coffee table." "Nooooooo……" "Do it. Come on." Sighing, glaring at him, I turned and slowly obeyed. "Stick out your bottom." I did. "More." "I am!" I said indignantly. A small slap to my bottom. "More. Come on, stick it out." I did, arching my back and poking it out as best I could while still trying not to. When he touched me, I pulled up somewhat, not wanting him to pry me apart, even slightly. "sarah, come on….more…." I did barely. "Do it or I'll make you grab your ankles." Eeek! Didn't want that. I pushed it back out and tried hard to not think about his minor inspection. But that worry was short-lived as he once again rendered me unable to think by teasingly running his fingernails over my very heated sit spots. It was impossible to be still as it is nearly as bad (good?) as being spanked! Such a confusing mixture of sensation…fingernails lightly digging into the searing skin, the tenderness amplifying the gentle scratching a hundredfold, yet in a strange way, it felt very, very good. When I pulled away again he just chuckled and finally let me stand. Wicked man!


text:
Recent Posts
- Happy Halloween! October 31, 2014
- Hulett Environmental Services encourages homeowners to take precautions against common household pests October 30, 2014
- How do mice fit into such small spaces? October 29, 2014
- Cockroaches and rodents can trigger allergies and asthma attacks during the fall season October 28, 2014
- Dampwood Termites October 27, 2014
- FAQ'S About Commercial Pest Management October 24, 2014
- How to keep your home from turning into a haunted house this Halloween October 23, 2014
Recent Comments
- itv news | itv news on News4Jax.com: This Year's Mosquito Predictions
- Hulett More Helpful Rodent Control Tips | Absolute Pest Services – Pest Control on Rodent Control Tips
- Termite problems on Florida Termite Control
- Frugal Dad's Top Pest Control Blogs | McCauley Brothers Termite & Pest Services on Add us to your Google + Circles
- Weekly Pest Control News | #PCO News - Bulwark Ext | Pest Control and Bug Exterminator Blog on Rodent Control Tips
Tag Archives: Pre-Construction Services
Pre-Construction Services
Pre-Construction Services The Reliable Choice Hulett Environmental Services has been serving a growing Florida for more than 40 years. We offer a full line of contractor services with a $1,000,000 Subterranean Termite Damage Warranty. Understanding how a contractor's schedule changes, … Continue reading
Posted in Pest Control Tagged Pre-Construction Services Leave a comment

subset: commoncrawl


text:
178 Bluxome Street has a Walk Score of 89 out of 100. This location is Very Walkable so most errands can be accomplished on foot.
178 Bluxome Street is a nine minute walk from the N JUDAH at the King St & 4th St stop.
This location is in the South of Market neighborhood in San Francisco. Nearby parks include Mission Creek Park, Bessie Carmichael Park and South Park.
Nearby schools include Five Keys Charter (SF Sheriff's) High School, San Francisco County Rop High School and San Francisco County Special Education School.
The closest grocery stores are Grower's Market Place, Harvey's Place and Gluten Free Grocery.
Nearby coffee shops include Showplace Caffe, Caffe Roma and Season's Cafe. Nearby restaurants include Bechelli's Flower Market Cafe, Turtle Tower Restaurant and El Norteno.
178 Bluxome Street is near California College of the Arts, Academy of Art University and McKesson Headquarters.
There are excellent bike lanes and the terrain is flat as a pancake. 178 Bluxome Street is a Biker's Paradise, daily errands can be accomplished on a bike.


text:
Ridiculous Marvel Cataclysm Press Release Causes Bloggers to Question Reality
- Written by Jude Terror on Friday, January 31 2014 and posted in News with Benefits
Source: Actual Press Release
Chaos erupted in the comics blogosphere yesterday when Marvel Comics sent out a press release for their latest blockbuster super-mega-crossover event, CATACLYSM: THE ULTIMATES' LAST STAND. The press release was so overloaded with hyperbole that anyone who read it was forced to question not only the seriousness of the press release itself, but of every press release Marvel has sent out for the past several years.
"This can't be real," said a shell-shocked Gus Sterlingham, senior fluff article contributor at ComicBooks.Net. "I mean, look at the headline, right off the bat: 'The Ultimate Universe Will Never Be the Same After CATACLYSM: THE ULTIMATES' LAST STAND #5!' How many times can they claim a universe will never be the same again with a straight face? It goes on to refer to the issue as 'the universe shattering conclusion' to the event by 'rock star creators' Brian Bendis and Mark Bagley."
"Holy crap," said Sterlingham, as the look of a man just realizing that he's been living a lie for the past five years and everything he knows is wrong slowly washed over his face. . "They've been fucking with us, haven't they?"
As the press release went on, it only became more and more clear to anyone who read it that this was the culmination of years worth of perfectly executed satire on the part of Marvel's public relations department which was so well done that it went completely unrecognized by anyone until now.
"New York City lays a smoldering ruin," continued the incredibly tongue-in-cheek press release. "Fractured, broken, and dead – the remaining Ultimates stand on the precipice of destruction, consumed by Galactus, the Devourer of Worlds! Galactus' World Eating machine is complete. With mere minutes left, the heroes of Earth must are out of time and out of options. Sacrifices must be made – and not everyone is coming back. Who lives? Who dies? It's Galactus vs. The Ultimates – and the winner will shock the Ultimate Universe to its core!"
"After this, nothing will ever be the same again," it added, daring someone, anyone at all, to pick up on the subtle but undeniable sarcasm that seethed within its words.
"My god," gasped Professor of Extremely Long and Complex Practical Jokes at the prestigious University of Phoenix, Thaddeus T. Puffinbottoms. "This changes everything! All of the theories in the field of comic book journalism are built on false assumptions. If Marvel was never serious, the ramifications of that..."
Professor Puffinbottoms immediately began flinging open filing cabinets and rifling through papers. "Yes, yes. Of course! I should have seen it before now. How could anyone read the press releases Marvel sends out every day and fail to see the obvious parody? How could we be so stupid?!"
"We're ruined!" cried Christian Hoffer, editor in chief of satirical comic book website TheOuthousers.com. "We've been mocking Marvel for their absurd rhetoric and marketing gimmicks, but the whole time, they were making fun of themselves."
"We look like fools!" Hoffer mused. "Well played, Marvel. Well played."
As if to gloat over the devastated comic book press, Marvel included several lackluster splash pages "drawn" by Mark Bagley which featured various Ultimate Comics characters being wantonly slaughtered by Galactus. "They look like a child drew them," Professor Puffinbottoms marveled.
The Outhouse attempted to find out whether the ludicrous events described in the press release were actually happening, but we were unable to locate anyone who actually reads the Ultimate Comics Universe.
"Does it even exist?" wondered Gus Sterlingham, reeling.
Here's the press release and images:
The Ultimate Universe Will Never Be the Same After CATACLYSM: THE ULTIMATES' LAST STAND #5!
Marvel is pleased to present your first look at CATACLYSM: THE ULTIMATES' LAST STAND #5 – the universe shattering conclusion! From rock star creators Brian Michael Bendis and Mark Bagley – New York City lays a smoldering ruin. Fractured, broken, and dead – the remaining Ultimates stand on the precipice of destruction, consumed by Galactus, the Devourer of Worlds! Galactus' World Eating machine is complete. With mere minutes left, the heroes of Earth must are out of time and out of options. Sacrifices must be made – and not everyone is coming back. Who lives? Who dies? It's Galactus vs. The Ultimates – and the winner will shock the Ultimate Universe to its core! After this, nothing will ever be the same again. Time is up this February in CATACLYSM: THE ULTIMATES' LAST STAND #5
Written by BRIAN MICHAEL BENDIS
Art & Cover by MARK BAGLEY
Variant Cover by JORGE COHELO
You Might Also Like:
Marvel Intern Exhausted After Hand-Writing Inserts for New Cassette Tape Version of Guardians of the Galaxy Soundtrack
Comment without an Outhouse Account using Facebook
Note: while you are welcome to speak your mind freely on any topic, we do ask that you keep discussion civil between each other. Nasty personal attacks against other commenters is strongly discouraged. Thanks!
About the Author - Jude Terror
Jude Terror is the Webmaster Supreme of The Outhouse and a sarcastic ace reporter dedicated to delivering irreverent comics and entertainment news to The Outhouse's dozens of loyal readers. Driven by a quest for vengeance, Jude Terror taught himself to program and joined The Outhouse. He instantly began working toward his goal of forcing the internet comics community to take itself less seriously and failing miserably. Ironically, our webmaster, whose website skills know no end, has very little understanding of social networks or how they work. Regardless, you can find him on Twitter, Facebook, and Tumblr, but would probably have the most luck just emailing him.
More articles from Jude Terror


text:
MOSCOW, Aug. 10 (UPI) — Russia's Foreign Ministry has appealed for help to prevent a possible attempt by Pristina to regain control over Serb-populated regions of Kosovo.
Foreign Ministry spokesman Alexander Lukashevich called on the European Union, NATO and the United Nations, all with offices in the region, to step in, Serbia's Tanjug news agency reported.
"Unfortunately, it is very likely that despite the Aug. 5 agreements to refrain from military actions, Pristina might be tempted to regain control over the Serb population in Kosovo by force," said Lukashevich.
Last month violence on the Kosovo-Serbian border left a police officer dead.
Fighting broke out after the government in Pristina ordered special forces to set up border check points in the mostly Serb-populated regions in the north to enforce a recent trade embargo with Serbia.


text:
The Miami Heat are in serious need of something to start going right for them as they've now dropped two straight games for the first time this postseason and it's come in the absolute worst possible time.
Kevin Love is looking for a winning situation in his career and some have joked that the Miami Heat are where he needs to go — and the joke seems to be slowly turning into reality. While no official inquiries seem to have been made, the Miami Heat might be getting into the Kevin Love game.
According to Darren Wolfson from ESPN1500, there may or may not be some chatter going on between the Wolves and the Miami Heat when it comes to trading Kevin Love. Wolfson sort of brushes off the notion that such talks are going on but he doesn't discount that a team like the Heat could be involved on a serious level.
Had non-#Twolves league exec. suggest some Miami Love chatter. Point is this: bet there's a team we haven't thought about heavily involved.
— Darren Wolfson (@DarrenWolfson) June 12, 2014
Miami might think extra hard about landing Kevin Love after their latest blowout loss as their chance at a three-peat is in serious danger. Love might be a missing piece we didn't know this team needed — or these talks could just be bunk and go absolutely nowhere.


text:
FLICK THIS: Trick Daddy CONFRONTS Lil' Wayne Over "F*CK Miami" Tirade, Tosses Cigarette & IGNITES SCUFFLE!
A nasty scuffle reportedly went down between Lil' Wayne and Miami native Tricky Daddy over Weezy's "F*ck Miami" rant from earlier this year. Find out who got a cigarette butt tossed at them inside!
Note to out-of-town rappers, no matter how famous you think you are....you shouldn't insult the proud locals! On Monday, Lil' Wayne was invited to host the re-opening of Miami's King Of Diamonds Strip Club (they've got new LED-lighting!) but that invitation stirred up some bad feelings amongst MIA residents like Trick Daddy.
You'll recall that Weezy let his feelings get the best of him during All-Star Weekend when he went on an infamous rant insulting the Miami Heat's starting lineup, which many took as a direct insult to the city itself. Then he refused to apologize for it (but he did he take back his words about LeBron James).
Fast forward to Monday evening when some of Dade County's finest (between 40-50 dudes to be exact) all walked into KOD's re-launch party with rapper Trick Daddy, all to have a few words with Lil' Wayne (who was there with Mack Maine). We're sure the dudes just wanted a friendly apology from Weezy and intended to welcome him back to Miami with open arms....but ish quickly went left.
Though King of Diamonds did tweet, "YMCMB in the Building!!!!! No worries", one of their followers said, "@KOD_miami trick daddy in the house ni*gas betta watch they mouth! #slipnslide #f*cklilwayne #f*ckkod #tootsiesallday."
According to MTV's Rap Fix, sources at the strip club that night say Trick and his crew went over to confront Weezy and that "talk" led to Trick flicking a cigarette butt at Weezy. From that point on, it's only reported that Weezy was escorted out of the building after bruhaha broke out.
Unfortunately, it's hard to fill-in what happened between the 50 dudes walking in and the cigarette butt being flicked because the streets don't "snitch". But something clearly happened.
Neither Trick nor Weezy have commented about the alleged scuffle, but back in Feburary, Trick told Vlad TV about MIA ish talkers,
"If anybody don't like it they can die tonight. I don't care who be offended by what I say. I rep my city and want nobody disrespecting. We've got to stick together as radio, as artists, as DJs and fans who love the music as a whole. That's what makes a community. Me and Luke been talking, we've been getting together, we're going to find out some type of way to get this thing back on the road -- I can't go nowhere else, this is my home. So from now on, when they get here, they're going to have to start checking in."
Since we don't think Weezy ever got around to doing that "check in", perhaps that explains why he was escorted out.
I don't like that cock roach
3:44 pm - Apr 13, '13
lol!!! I guess Drake said,
10:54 am - Apr 12, '13
Trick is a crazy fool, but
10:46 am - Apr 12, '13
this is the difference
7:55 am - Apr 12, '13
Isn't this nigga in his
12:09 am - Apr 12, '13
bro i have to agree , this
7:38 am - Apr 12, '13
Trick Where you been?! Trick
9:00 pm - Apr 11, '13
Really though.. Lil Wayne is
7:57 pm - Apr 11, '13
I know KOD was stinky that
6:13 pm - Apr 11, '13
Trick Daddy is true to the
4:57 pm - Apr 11, '13
THis is going to be Wayne's
3:51 pm - Apr 11, '13
3:45 pm - Apr 13, '13
Eddie Kane (Lil Wayne) VS The
3:33 pm - Apr 11, '13
21 for life!
3:34 pm - Apr 11, '13
Trick has Lupus but please
3:12 pm - Apr 11, '13
Very true!
8:53 am - Apr 12, '13
Girl yes those are all my
3:21 pm - Apr 11, '13
No need to get your hands
2:41 pm - Apr 11, '13
today's comment
3:13 pm - Apr 11, '13
Must you kill me everyday!
2:53 pm - Apr 11, '13
I think I would pay $$ to see
2:38 pm - Apr 11, '13
Trick Daddy need to sit his
2:22 pm - Apr 11, '13
They all need to sit down.
2:09 pm - Apr 11, '13
they should just do like Fab
1:49 pm - Apr 11, '13
2:10 pm - Apr 11, '13
those BROKE DOWN dudes would
1:44 pm - Apr 11, '13
LMAO You guys are in rare
2:55 pm - Apr 11, '13
These dudes are too old for
1:39 pm - Apr 11, '13
i agree. this is what gives
7:41 am - Apr 12, '13
i wonder will this be on the
1:41 pm - Apr 11, '13
lol ! I would watch that
2:32 pm - Apr 11, '13
Sad but true. Trick is too
1:59 pm - Apr 11, '13
You ain't NEVA lie!!
1:40 pm - Apr 11, '13


text:
Good deal in Spotsy
URL: http://www.fredericksburg.com/News/FLS/2004/092004/09192004/1508171
Summary: The deal to save a Spotsylvania battlefield casts a favorable light on all the players.
Copyright 2014The Free Lance Star Publishing Co. of Fredericksburg, Va.
Send to the email address:
(separate mulitple email addresses with commas)
Email address:
This information is ONLY so the person you send the information to knows
who sent it.
We will not sell your e-mail address or use it for any other purposes.
Comments to add to the email:
Type in the number of squares shown.


text:
If so, this is bad news for the Church
Topic: Mark Lawson
Are Catholic intellectuals losing touch with the mainstream?
Posted on Monday, 9 May 2011
If so, this is bad news for the Church
Copyright © Catholic Herald 2014. Registered in England and Wales, no. 9123451. Registered office: 15 Lamb's Passage, London EC1Y 8TQ. website by freshSPRING


text:
Photo reblogged from escape. with 399,907 notes
Source: wolf-teeth
Photoset reblogged from Absent with 694,445 notes
no one will ever understand the deep fucking connection I have with this film
For real though
Source: david-own-world
Photo reblogged from Who Could Ever Learn to Love a Hideous Beast? with 719,779 notes
Source: sunsetcandypills
Quote reblogged from ??? with 133,426 notes
1. I don't like folding laundry or talking about my emotions. I'm likely to leave both scattered all over.
2. I'm not much for cooking but there will always be coffee.
3. I'll wear anything of yours with sleeves. I love when they're long enough to wrap around my hands.
4. Sometimes the world is too harsh, too big. It's hard to leave the house on days like those.
5. When I was sick as a kid my mom would run a bath for me and wash my hair. It was always so soothing. Maybe you could do that every once in a while.
6. I find it difficult to finish most things. My room is home to countless journals of incomplete thoughts.
7. I won't love you any less in December. I think my heart just wasn't meant for the cold.
8. I never truly know why I'm crying so don't bother to ask, simply be there.
9. There's whiskey in the medicine cabinet.
10. If things get terribly bad, please don't give up. Get me in the car and drive to the sea. The waves beneath my toes will wake me up and I'll be yours again.
Source: fraggybird
Photo reblogged from ॐ with 149 notes
why is the background watermelõn?
Source: purplebuddhaproject
Post reblogged from Hopeless Wanderer with 407,804 notes
Today I got into an argument with my Aunt because she was upset that her daughter was dating a girl so I said
"Do you really think you should fall in love with someone's genitals over their soul? Because that's shallow and sad"
And my 75 year old grandmother who was sitting in her rocking chair, and who hasn't said a word for the past hour screamed "OH BURN" and hit my aunt with a fly swatterMy gramma is a special lady okay.
Source: youdtearthiscanvasskinapart
Photo reblogged from ??? with 389,580 notes
Source: hannah-panda
Photo reblogged from cats > with 619,776 notes
Source: sluttiestonline
Photo reblogged from Forgave with 74,781 notes
Follow me and I'll follow back!
Photo reblogged from ♡hey there beautiful♡ with 37,887 notes
my blog may make you smile, laugh and make you think about life♡
Photo reblogged from ♡hey there beautiful♡ with 185,547 notes
my blog may make you smile, laugh and make you think about life♡
Photo reblogged from Perfect man with 378 notes
Source: mykindofguy
Post reblogged from pizza ✌ with 76,106 notes
don't offer me the rest of your fries or I might fall in love with you
Photo reblogged from ♡hey there beautiful♡ with 333,638 notes
my blog may make you smile, laugh and make you think about life♡
Source: madeupmonkeyshit
Page 1 of 54


text:
» Buyers Guide » Four-Wheel-Drive Convertibles
Four-Wheel-Drive Convertibles:
The number of four wheel drive convertibles available is quite surprising. The breakdown is mostly related to Volkswagen Group's commitment to the technology with its use in their Audi, Bentley, Bugatti and Lamborghini cars. The number of convertible cars that are true off-roaders is considerably smaller. While Jeep vehicles traditionally had minimal bodywork and no roof their current line of SUVs are more civilised and only the Wrangler 4×4 has a convertible top.
The first four-wheel-drive system was patented by English engineer Bramah Diplock in 1893 for use on traction engines and the technology was developed for a convertible car in 1900 by Lohner-Porsche. This was also the world's first hybrid powered car. The first four-wheel-drive car with an internal combustion engine (again a convertible) was the Spyker 60HP was unveiled in 1903.
In the 1980s the AMC Eagle range included the first convertible car to the FF (Formula Ferguson) system of full-time all-wheel-drive (Jensen did not build a convertible version of their Interceptor FF). Although a clever design the AMC Eagle Convertible had a limited market and only lasted two years production.
Select from these four-wheel-drive convertibles for more information:
- Audi A5 Cabriolet 2.0 TFSI Quattro
- Audi A5 Cabriolet 3.0 TDI quattro
- Audi R8 Spyder V10
- Audi RS5 Cabriolet
- Audi S3 Cabriolet
- Audi S5 Cabriolet
- Audi TT Roadster 2.0 TDI quattro
- Audi TT RS Roadster
- Bentley Continental GTC V8
- Bentley Continental GTC V8 S
- Bentley Continental GTC W12
- Bentley Supersports Convertible
- Bugatti Veyron Grand Sport
- Bugatti Veyron Grand Sport Vitesse
- Jeep Wrangler 2.8 CRD
- Jeep Wrangler 3.6
- Jeep Wrangler Unlimited 2.8 CRD
- Jeep Wrangler Unlimited 3.6
- Lamborghini Aventador LP700-4 Roadster
- Nissan Murano CrossCabriolet
- Porsche 911 Carrera 4S Cabriolet
- Porsche 911 Targa 4
- Porsche 911 Targa 4S
- Porsche 918 Spyder
- Audi A4 Cabriolet 3.0 TDI quattro (2001-2009)
- Audi A4 Cabriolet 3.2 FSI quattro (2001-2009)
- Audi A5 Cabriolet 3.2 FSI Quattro (2009-2011)
- Audi RS4 Cabriolet (2006-2009)
- Audi S4 Cabriolet (2004-2009)
- Audi TT Roadster 3.2 V6 quattro (2007-2009)
- Audi TT Roadster mk1 1.8T quattro (1999-2006)
- Audi TT Roadster mk1 3.2 quattro (1999-2006)
- Bentley Continental GTC (2006-2010)
- Bentley Continental GTC Speed (2009-2010)
- Lamborghini Gallardo LP560-4 Spyder (2006-2014)
- Lamborghini Gallardo LP570-4 Spyder Performante (2012-2014)
- Lamborghini Murcielago LP640 Roadster (2009-2010)
- Lamborghini Reventón Roadster (2010)
- Land Rover Defender SVX (2009)
- Mercedes G-Class Cabriolet (1979-2013)
News About Four-Wheel-Drive Convertibles
Youabian Puma shocks at Pebble Beach
The wealthy motoring connoisseurs are left speechless when the huge Youabian Puma convertible parks up alongside their priceless classic cars. Those wanting something unique to stand out from the crowd may look no further.
BMW M4 Convertible Revealed
The latest high performance 4 seat convertible from BMW will be called the BMW M4 Convertible but don't worry, it couldn't be more M3 if it tried. The 4-Series is still based on the platform of the 3-Series car but the name is used tho separate the more sporting coupe and convertible models.
McLaren 650S Spider Launched
McLaren's latest car is a convertible version of the 650S, itself launched just a few weeks ago. First shown in public at the Geneva Motor Show the McLaren 650S Spider is clearly influenced in design by the P1 hypercar.


text:
The UX of Community in Contested Space
Urban Cycling : Bike Lanes :: The Internet : A Code of Conduct
I've been struggling to try to put into words why a Code of Conduct is so important in tech. It's difficult. Particularly since the issue has been so thoroughly polarized into one of women vs men. Particularly since any attempt to explain "a woman's experience" to a man is met with disbelief, with indredulity.
Why? Because any man I take the time to talk to doesn't NEED a Code of Conduct to be a decent human in the tech world. He already has one. It's a moral compass that operates not just when he's at work, or online, or face-to-face with another human. He's a decent person and puts effort into remaining so.
But just because he doesn't see it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist.
I finally got a chance to have a chat with Troy Hennikoff, founder of many a company, now heading up TechStars Chicago. We're both busy people, so our "time to chat" wound up being on a mad bicycle ride north along his commute up to Evanston. I have never been so out of breath while biking, and simultaneously so unwilling to reallocate my air supply away from conversation. I'd been worried that a ride would be ill suited to a proper debate, with cars and potholes to be dodged. It turns out it provided me the perfect metaphor to finally explain what I'm feeling across the divide of gender.
Troy was the one who brought it up. He told me to think of the tech world the same way as I think of cycling. There are a few jerks out there, ones who try to run cyclists off the road – yes, swerving at a cyclist counts as "assault with a deadly weapon" – but that hasn't kept me from riding my bike, right?
He didn't know how apt a metaphor he'd chosen.
I've been hit by cars seven times. Maybe you're not a cyclist, so let me explain what happened in each of these bicycle "accidents":
I was thrown to the ground by 4,000lbs of metal slamming into me, because another human being didn't see I was there.
Yes. It hurt every time.
No. It doesn't get any less terrifying.
The first time was the worst. I was biking through downtown Chicago, heading south on my way to an interview at a small design firm. One moment I was heading through an intersection – yes, the light was green, I heard you thinking that – the next I was in the air.
I came-to lying on my back in the middle of the street. My bike was under the front tires of a car, ten feet away from me. A car that had turned left, across traffic, straight into me. I'd been knocked out as my helmet hit the pavement.
What did I do? I scraped myself off the street, began apologizing to cars that honked at me, drivers yelling out their open windows that I was "in their way," blocking an intersection I only then realized was two blocks from the highway onramp. I was keeping these people from getting home.
A valet had stepped in, pulled my bike out from under the car tires – the driver had to back up to free them. Somehow I made it to the curb, "shaking like a leaf" yes, as in a leaf in a hurricane.
This is where it gets weird. I had just been hit by a car, right? This is the age of cell phones, but did anyone call the cops? No. Not me. Not the driver. He gave me his number, his business card. Said he was sorry, he just wasn't paying attention, too focused on the street signs, because he was from out of town. He offered to pay for any repairs I needed.
I told him it was ok. That I was fine. I thanked him, and he drove away.
If you're not saying "What the fuck?!!?" then I haven't written this clearly enough. I was hit by a car. The guy said he was sorry, he hadn't been trying to hit me. Then, he just drove away. For some reason, I just let it happen.
Now, lets think about this in the tech world.
I just got back from SXSW. I'd actually started a blog before I headed down there with the explicit GOAL of documenting any sexism I saw. The great thing? I saw nearly nothing. Here's the less great thing:
I didn't do many parties this year. I went to two in fact. One, at a club downtown. The other, off the beaten track, invite only, a dance party at a house folks had rented. It was a blast. The DJ amazing. The other folks dancing, from NYC, Philly, Chicago, SF… all over, all awesome designers, developers, startup folks I was completely amped to get to hang out with. Things started to wind down and I headed outside. I wound up talking with some friends about projects we'd been working on. Then one guy walks out. In a suit. He joins our conversation, asking me about some specifics of the difference between the startup scene in NYC vs Chicago… something like that. So, chatting, I follow him down the front porch stairs.
That's when it got bad. He's telling me he's a VC. He's telling me how well I'm articulating these differences, I'm telling him it's my job, that I do UX research. Then he tells me I'm hot.
Wait. What?
He goes on. Switching back and forth between the amount of money he's directly in control of, to compliments on various body parts. I'm not sure what to do. He's an important connection, right? He's introducing me to his boss, standing there by the car, then telling me how he'd like to dance with me some more…
Sure, you can say it was an "after party" …but he went out of his way to tell me what company he represented. He was the one who changed the context to a professional one.
I walked back up the stairs after he drove off. I felt dirty. I felt confused. I mentioned it to my friends… they laughed. So that was it.
But then, the other day, I found out his company is sponsoring a hackathon I'm supposed to be involved in. That he quite possibly could be one of the judges.
Now notice. Have I mentioned his name? His company? You are witnessing, as I sit here writing this, my internal debate. Do you see the parallel? I was hit by a car, the driver was at fault, but I'd been "in his way" so I didn't call the cops. I was propositioned by a VC, who included as part of his "pitch," the investment money he controlled along with a detailed assessment of my own assets… physical ones. But it was at an after party, so that's only to be expected, right?
Over the past ten years that I've been riding my bike in Chicago and cities all over the world – five states, seven countries – I've seen a lot change. The most visible has been due to bike lanes.
The first day that they "striped" – put lines demarcating a bike lane via a solid white line – Milwaukee Ave in Chicago, the main street leading from the north-west side straight to downtown, drivers changed. They stayed between that new white line and the double yellow line separating them from oncoming traffic.
Even if there are no bikes there, the cars stick between the lines. Sure, every now and then some rogue decides to drive along the right-hand side of the street, but they're met by rage-filled honks, and if caught, a hefty fine. Sure, some folks go and park in this still newly enstated bike lane, but they know they're being naughty, leaving their lights flashing, dashing back to their car lest they get nailed with a ticket.
Riding in that lane, I feel safe. I'm still wary, but I know that for the most part, I am expected, I am recognized, I belong on the road and no one can contest that. Before, I'd get yelled at through open windows to get off the road, to get on the sidewalk – illegal – or to get a car. Not so much any more. There are still potholes, it's not like they upkeep the bike lane any better than the rest of the road, and this is Chicago, with frost heaves and plows and construction. But I can watch out for those, because I know the cars are watching out for me.
That is what a Code of Conduct is in tech. It isn't a promise that the road will be any smoother, for women, for anyone. It's not a guarantee that there won't be assholes and jackasses out there. However, it makes it obvious to everyone when someone has strayed outside the lines. Not just those who are affected. Not just those who are made unsafe. Everyone can see and recognize a toe over the line. Everyone can call the offender out. Not just the victim.
It means that those who spent half time speaking out, or keeping them selves safe, can actually focus on building things. Can spend their extra energy navigating and negotiating potholes.
I'm not calling you an asshole. I'm not accusing anyone of misconduct. I'm just asking for a space to be made where I can finally concentrate on getting shit done, instead of keeping myself safe, fighting off the trolls.
Something you might not know about me. Before I worked in tech, before I founded #XXHack, or Mentored a StartupWeekend, or volunteered my expertise to Women Innovate Mobile Accelerator, or co-founded Parsecco, or helped start @chiDUXX, I ran TyK [Thought You Knew].
We started as a group of women, tired of being sidelined in cycling, who'd hang out and support each other any way we could. I turned that into a four year long passion project to change the image of women in cycling, and help ladies in Chicago regain ownership of their sexuality as well as confidence in their bike skills.
Four years. Time and a lot of energy I put into a cause that should never have existed in the first place. It was an awesome project, and I wouldn't take it back for the world. But that was time I could have spent on building my personal brand, on working on projects for more money and more notoriety and more professional success.
I am tired of all of this being up to women.
We are handicapped by being barred from access to the funding our projects need: am I having a drink with this guy and discussing investment, or is he hitting on me… and will folks just assume I slept my way into that first million?
We are handicapped by being different from those with the power: humans trust that which they recognize, so everyone – from investors to bosses, to the dude programmer on the other side of the interview table – is going to select those who look like them, before they take a risk on the unfamiliar, that which they don't have a good way to codify or measure… before they take a risk on a woman.
We are handicapped by having our self-esteem eroded day by day: what in a man is iniative in a woman is pushyness, what in a man is an authoritative decision in a woman is bitchiness, what in a man is manliness in a woman is being a slut.
We are handicapped by spending our time trying to fix the system.
I suppose I could just "go build." I could be the example of success that women need.
But I've done that before. I do that every day I ride my bike. Every time I take a photo of myself leaning against my bike, helmet and sunglasses and a grin. Every time I encourage someone to have the confidence to do that first five-mile commute.
What I don't talk about is how all those times I've been hit, or the many many many times I've been "bumped," or cut off, or screamed at out a car window, or run off the road, or managed to bail off my bike just in time.
People admire my bike. It's a work of art, a bright rainbow of stripes and gold glitter that stops grown adults in their tracks. It's elegant too, with sweep back handle bars that keep me sitting upright. It looks good.
The truth? It's the only bike I can ride now. After so many times getting hit, after landing hard and badly, there are some injuries that haven't healed. One woman turned across traffic, straight into me, headed wrong way down a one-way street. It took four years of litigation to close that case. Every time she saw me in court it was the same venom she'd spat at me when the cops first rolled up. A little old lady vs some filthy cyclist. That night, the cop asked me through the window of her cruiser, as I stood in the rain, holding an icepack to my bleeding elbow "So, are you employed?" Because that matters when someone has hit me with their car.
My shoulder has never healed. I had a steroid shot into my spine to help with the pain. I was told by my doctor "you should really just stop riding…" The woman who hit me? She's still out there, driving her car and cursing cyclists.
So every time I hear about someone I know getting hit, someone I encouraged to start riding, I'm reminded: I got them into this.
I feel responsible.
Every time I hear about another woman getting torn down, dealing with being hit on at a conference, being asked "Hey hon, can I talk to the guys who actually built this?" at a trade show… when she's the lead dev, I'm reminded: I'm trying to drag them into this.
I feel responsible.
One of these days it's going to be too much. I won't be quick enough. I'll finally get hit hard enough that I don't get back up again.
Am I talking about the cars… or that next guy who tells me to "just be patient" when I try to explain why this is so damned hard, then squeezes my shoulder with a friendly leer.
Why is this up to me? Why am I the one putting time into making this better?
I feel responsible.
Why don't you?
Yes, this was long. There's also a lot more out there.
Additional Reading:
Asking the Wrong Question by/ @Deanna
Sexism is Like an Onion by/ @ChrisYeh
Death by a Thousand Paper Cuts by/ @JuliePagano
An Unjust People by/ @raganwald
Woman, Not Girl by/ @LillieAlbert
Sexism in the Workplace by/ @Jillfilipovic
What You Should Know by/ @KuraFire
- zhinxy likes this
- infinitebuffalo likes this
- nonelvis likes this
- youcantfoolthequeen likes this
- infjdoodles likes this
- swirlspice likes this
- billhofmann reblogged this from agentfin
- birchmann likes this
- geekgoesretro reblogged this from agentfin
- theobscureone reblogged this from agentfin
- incidentaladventures reblogged this from agentfin
- monicagerber likes this
- mollydot reblogged this from agentfin and added:
Well worth a read.
- thentheysaidburnher likes this
- screaming--banshee reblogged this from agentfin
- animamosaic reblogged this from agentfin
- clevergirlblog reblogged this from agentfin
- alexglow likes this
- bustyswede likes this
- random0ne reblogged this from agentfin
- random0ne likes this
- zevhonith reblogged this from agentfin
- mcchris likes this
- jasoncodes likes this
- trans-atlantyk likes this
- doomyeti reblogged this from agentfin
- doomyeti likes this
- juliepagano likes this
- kowh reblogged this from agentfin
- autobee reblogged this from agentfin
- twilightotaku likes this
- twilightotaku reblogged this from agentfin
- thingsstingshouldsing reblogged this from agentfin
- jalbertbowdenii reblogged this from agentfin
- jalbertbowdenii likes this
- davetrains likes this
- zanytomato likes this
- michaelhartog reblogged this from agentfin
- trella likes this
- lizzylogic likes this
- vermilionink likes this
- mr-underbridge likes this
- adrienneleigh likes this
- starrypickingnight reblogged this from agentfin
- itsjustkate reblogged this from metaquarry
- connettwerk reblogged this from agentfin
- yamneko reblogged this from agentfin
- tehhen likes this
- thinkingfish likes this
- Show more notes


text:
So it turns out to be a good thing that I hadn't yet signed that adjuncting contract, because I just got an offer on a history lecturership. It's non tenure-track (par for the course these days) and involves teaching at a university's expansion campus, primarily for non-traditional students, to include military personnel. I'll be teaching lots of Western Civ I and II and World History I and II along with the occasional upper-division course. The best part of it is that it bumps me up into another tax bracket. So I'm officially calling an end to the Andrew-cession.
Of course, it's going to involve lots of teaching, and it's going to start much sooner than I'd anticipated. All of which is to say that most free time in my life is about to vanish into a morass of lecture writing and attempts to eke out maybe another publication before the next round of job and post-doc applications starts. So I won't be able to have lengthy, protracted political discussions, especially when I basically approve of most of what BHO is up to.
So I guess I'm kind of signing off until I have a handle on moving, writing lectures, and the like.
For your Forvmites in ABD limbo (catchy et al.): Finish your dissertation!


text:
General Information for Applicants
IMAGE: Kent/Blossom students participating in a class.
Letter of RecommendationThe online application requires each applicant to provide the name and email address of one person who has aggreed to provide electronic recommendations. Recommendations should be completed as soon as possible since they are an important part of the admission process.
Audition RequirementsEvery applicant is required to upload VIDEO recordings at the time of application submission. Please see http://www.kent.edu/blossom/apply/auditions.cfm for more details.
Kent/Blossom 2014 Season -- June 22 through July 26
- Participants will arrive on campus before 4 p.m. on Sunday, June 22
- Final Event will conclude in the evening of Saturday, July 26
General Information
- Housing accommodations -- Residence Hall, $1,100 per student
- Tuition -- a payment of $700 must be received by May 1, 2014
- Parking -- $25 (if you plan to drive to campus)
- Meals -- $475 per student estimate
Application Instructions
WE HAVE EXTENDED THE APPLICATION DEADLINE TO MARCH 15, 2014. To start an online application click here! An application fee is required, as indicated below.