#Power Corporation

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

Young Hero Sent On A Quest meets other young heroes also sent on various quests—only to discover they're all being used as free child labor by the same flaky wizard as a scam to collect magical artifacts.

the Young Heroes' collective new "Quest" is now to Unionize.....

[roe-oo]

heyyy I watched the thing

[robertreich]

Who’s to Blame for Out-Of-Control Corporate Power?    

One man is especially to blame for why corporate power is out of control. And I knew him! He was my professor, then my boss. His name… Robert Bork.

Robert Bork was a notorious conservative who believed the only legitimate purpose of antitrust — that is, anti-monopoly — law is to lower prices for consumers, no matter how big corporations get. His philosophy came to dominate the federal courts and conservative economics.

I met him in 1971, when I took his antitrust class at Yale Law School. He was a large, imposing man, with a red beard and a perpetual scowl. He seemed impatient and bored with me and my classmates, who included Bill Clinton and Hillary Rodham, as we challenged him repeatedly on his antitrust views.

We argued with Bork that ever-expanding corporations had too much power. Not only could they undercut rivals with lower prices and suppress wages, but they were using their spoils to influence our politics with campaign contributions. Wasn’t this cause for greater antitrust enforcement?

He had a retort for everything. Undercutting rival businesses with lower prices was a good thing because consumers like lower prices. Suppressing wages didn’t matter because employees are always free to find better jobs. He argued that courts could not possibly measure political power, so why should that matter?

Even in my mid-20s, I knew this was hogwash.

But Bork’s ideology began to spread. A few years after I took his class, he wrote a book called The Antitrust Paradox summarizing his ideas. The book heavily influenced Ronald Reagan and later helped form a basic tenet of Reaganomics — the bogus theory that says government should get out of the way and allow corporations to do as they please, including growing as big and powerful as they want.

Despite our law school sparring, Bork later gave me a job in the Department of Justice when he was solicitor general for Gerald Ford. Even though we didn’t agree on much, I enjoyed his wry sense of humor. I respected his intellect. Hell, I even came to like him.

Once President Reagan appointed Bork as an appeals court judge, his rulings further dismantled antitrust. And while his later Supreme Court nomination failed, his influence over the courts continued to grow.  

Bork’s legacy is the enormous corporate power we see today, whether it’s Ticketmaster and Live Nation consolidating control over live performances, Kroger and Albertsons dominating the grocery market, or Amazon, Google, and Meta taking over the tech world.

It’s not just these high-profile companies either: in most industries, a handful of companies now control more of their markets than they did twenty years ago.

This corporate concentration costs the typical American household an estimated extra $5,000 per year. Companies have been able to jack up prices without losing customers to competitors because there is often no meaningful competition.

And huge corporations also have the power to suppress wages because workers have fewer employers from whom to get better jobs.

And how can we forget the massive flow of money these corporate giants are funneling into politics, rigging our democracy in their favor?

But the tide is beginning to turn under the Biden Administration. The Justice Department and Federal Trade Commission are fighting the monopolization of America in court, and proposing new merger guidelines to protect consumers, workers, and society.

It’s the implementation of the view that I and my law school classmates argued for back in the 1970s — one that sees corporate concentration as a problem that outweighs any theoretical benefits Bork claimed might exist.

Robert Bork would likely regard the Biden administration’s antitrust efforts with the same disdain he had for my arguments in his class all those years ago. But instead of a few outspoken law students, Bork’s philosophy is now being challenged by the full force of the federal government.

The public is waking up to the outsized power corporations wield over our economy and democracy. It’s about time.

[bluerosefox]

A Fair Warning

It was only a matter of time, and a long awaited and well deserved comeuppance, when Joker tried to hurt the wrong person or people.

Not everyone was going to play his games like 'Batsy' does. Not everyone will hesitate or let him live should he put his hands on someone to hurt them. Not everyone will believe Arkham could 'fix' him, he just needed more time and help.

No.

This time Joker bit off more than he could chew when he kidnapped the newly hired Arkham psychiatrist Jasmine Fenton (and he had plans, so many plans, for her. With her mixture of Harley's mind and her looks matching Gordon's daughter would sure to cause some chaos and pain in memories) and the girl's visiting sister Danielle 'Ellie' (and did he laugh when he noticed the 'Wayne' adoptive looks the girl had, on the fun he'll have, maybe he'll beat her the way he beat the second Robin just for funzie's, it'll no doubt upset Batman) from Jasmine's apartment.

He had plans to keep the Bats guessing where he was and by the time they reach him it'll be far to late for them to save either of the two girls, he had just sent the little video he taped to the Bats and the police to get the ball rolling...

So...

So why did a shiver run down his spine for the first time in years when they both looked unafraid (it was their eyes that made him shiver, a look of already dead yet somehow alive, something he never seen before. He's seen the light fade from people's eyes before yes, he's even laughed as he watch people desperately cling onto life only for it to fade into nothing as they took a final breath but never have he seen someone, something alive yet dead at the same time before. It, their eyes, held a natural yet unnatural sense as they stared at him, stared at everything that made him Joker and it unnerved him), honestly they looked very bored, and one of them (the youngest of the two, and the one with more of the look of death than life in their eyes) said with a chill tune in their tone.

"Last chance to back out of this Freakshows Reject. You wont like what'll be waiting for you."

The tone alone was enough to send another bone deep chill down Joker's spine.

But instead of listening to his natural instincts, the deep inkling of run blaring at him, Joker merely placed a grin on his face, ignoring the strain he felt from doing so, and said as nastily as he could in order to scare the two girls (BOTH OF THEM STILL LOOKED BORED WITH HIM?!?! Not even a twitch of fear!)

"OH? And pray tell what is awaiting little ol' me hum?"

His mocking question got a wide feral grin from the smaller girl, a grin with sharp teeth and iris eyes beginning to bleed slowly from sky blue to neon green with each second he stared at her and he barely stopped himself from jumping in his spot when Jasmine answered his question.

"Your end."

-x-x-

By the time the Bats get to the warehouse Joker had taken Dr. Jasmine 'Jazz' Fenton and Danielle 'Ellie' Fenton they were prepared for anything and everything to go wrong. As much as they held the tiniest bit of hope that the two young women were still okay they knew better than to really do, this was the Joker that had them after all.

They had manged to narrow down his location much quicker than normal when they gotten Joker's first video and his little 'game' he was setting the Bats on, most locations he gave them were going to be red herrings or traps to keep them busy and it would had worked. Batman and the others would had been searching for hours for even a hint of the clue of where the Joker and his hostages were actually being kept.

It was nearly, not really, a shame all of Joker's plans went to waste when Red Hood had stumbled onto something when scooping out Jasmine's apartment with Red Robin.

You see, not only were they looking for clues at first but something about the apartment Jasmine rented seemed off, Red Robin noticed it first and called in back up encase there was more to oldest Fenton than what they could dig up (oldest daughter of Dr's. Jackson and Madeline Fenton, grew up in a small Illinois town, straight A student and a goal to become a psychologist, has two younger siblings, etc etc) and their suspension raised up more when the moment Red Hood entered the apartment and seemed to freeze for a moment.

Red Hood couldn't really explain it but he said it felt like something was... strange. Not evil bad danger strange but it felt familiar? Like he was a kid again on the streets and had walked into someone else's territory but knew the person wouldn't be too much of a hardass about it as long as he didn't stur up trouble or disrespect. A kind of... as long as you don't fuck around you won't find out feeling.

It was because of this feeling that Jason had manged to stumble across something in the room, his instincts telling him there was more to it, and they had discovered a clunky old custom PDA hidden away in a false floorboard in the office room. Thankfully Red Robin, was there in person because the old thing apparently had a rather ingenious firewall to keep others (aka Hackers) OUT but it did nothing against someone who held the main thing.

But still it took Red Robin almost frying the damn thing to get to open up, turns out the ghost and star stickers on the PDA was a rather large hint of the pass code. Once Red Robin was in the PDA he noticed some rather interesting files, one of them labeled "Gremlin Tracking" with a tiny green blob with red eyes and a green outlined star as the icons.

Curiosity taking a hold on the most curious of the Bats he opened it up, hoping it would need another password, and watched as the screen split into two maps, one was... strange, there was no land marks or anything but the star icon seemed to be right in the middle of wherever it was and the only hint of anything was the name "baby brother" and the map labeled as IR.

The other one showed an above map of Gotham, before zooming into the city, heading towards some abandoned warehouses Red Robin knew of and stopped right at one. This was the green blob icon, the short abbreviation for Gotham in the corner of the map, and the name for the icon was 'baby sister'

Red Robin immediately got onto coms to tell the others of what apparently was a tracker for Jasmine's younger siblings. Some questioned why the young woman had trackers on her siblings, though some of the others snarked back that "oh didn't know keeping trackers on each other wasn't normal. Mind if I loose the one you got on me than?"

After a quick sweep into the warehouses camera feeds, the very few up that could be accessed, done by Oracle they quickly discovered that yes the tracking on the younger girl of the two, Danielle Fenton, was correct and that was where they and Joker were at.

Despite this, Batman decided that in order to make sure Joker didn't have suspicion that they already know his actual location he made sure to send a few of the others to the fake locations.

So here they were now, staking out the warehouse where they could see a few of the Jokers goons walking around and looking for a way into the building without alerting any of them. As they talked low into coms, Robin mentioning a possible way in for Red Robin by how small it was, Red Robin hissing back a "just because you got a growth spurt doesn't mean you can poke fun at my height you little-"

"Wait!" Red Hood suddenly hissed shouted, his tone startling the rest of them and they all turned their heads to him. Batman made a quick and harsh grunt as a way to say "report."

Under his helmet Jason's eyes were wide and wild. He could feel something, something huge was on the rise, like something was out of sight but the energy of it was felt.

And if Jason could feel it from his spot, the Jokers goons all felt the same thing from the way they all dropped their weapons, turned toward the warehouse and looked ready to bolt like scared animals.

Jason opened his mouth to explain but fell silent when the feeling suddenly popped. Whatever was causing the feeling was here and like the calm before the storm he could only watch as the first drop of rain fall.

The next thing they know, was the noise and the screaming.

It was inhuman, a mixture of noise and sounds to hard to explain. The closest they could explain was a thousand voices coming in all at once mixing with radio static that kept changing volume so only few words could be even hinted at, and the angry cawing of crows along with the flapping of their wings as they took flight. The noise was so bad that many who heard it nearly ripped their coms out, or covered their ears. Thankfully it only lasted a few seconds.

Then, the air itself shifted. It felt like the coldest of winter nights and bone chilling shivers ran down their bodies for a moment. The air was suddenly that sharp cold that hurt to breathe sometimes.

The goons surrounding the warehouse fled in fear. Many scrambling to get far, far away from whatever was happening. If they felt even a fraction of what Jason could feel, he could understand. He honestly felt like a small animal cornered by a predator and there was no escape.

Then just as suddenly as it happened, everything shifted again. The noise of Gotham returned to normal, cars honking, a stray cat hissing or a dog barking, police sirens in the distance, hissing steam from a nearby factory. The air went from winter cold to a chill mid winter harbor feel now.

Once everyone registered what had just happened and not wanting to waste anymore time they bolted towards the warehouse, cautious and alert in case they needed to fight. Batman went in first, quickly making his way to the area he knew Joker would be with the Fenton sisters and wondered just what the fuck was that? Did Joker do something? Was he messing with things outside of his usual MO?!

He walked into the room and stopped.

There was nothing.

The room was in fact the room Joker had used to record his first message to them, the layout was correct and the evidence of two people who had been tied up were still there as well, ropes that weren't cut sitting on them, a lone lamp light above shining down from above no doubt to emphasize the two girls were meant to be the 'stars' of Jokers latest show. Thing was, the two weren't there despite the fact Oracle swore she could see them a few mins ago from a camera set up in the room, she would later explain that she heard the noise as well and that all her tech had glitched hard.

The only other thing in the room was, sitting innocently on one of the chairs was a green sticky note and on a tiny pillow was a tiny sickly green orb with hints of purple, white, and red swirling in it.

A note they would later read the following message written on it after carefully examining it over.

'Joker learned not to touch what is mine to protect. Sorry not sorry, but hey one less killer clown and he was warned not my fault he didn't take it seriously... The massive amount of souls wanting to rip apart the Joker's soul into nothing was quite a sight to be honest.

They were so ruthless. Best not mess with the vengeful dead am I right?

PS. I left a tiny gift for Jason Todd aka Robin Two. It's the tiniest piece of Joker's soul left over after everyone else got done. He can finish it off since he's a reverent and all, and well they need their revenge filled in order to peacefully move on later or else they'll be stuck forever in a loop of madness and revenge. So yeah. Hope he likes the gift.'

D.P.'

It took Jason less than a second after those words were spoken out to reach for the orb, ignoring the cautious and alarmed cries of the others, and could feel deep, deep, deep in his own soul the absolute pure weeping joy as he threw the orb onto the floor, the bottom shattering thus it didn't roll away and stomped hard with his reinforced boots. Crushing the broken orb into more pieces and if one listened closely they could hear the pure screaming terror that came from it.

And Jason for the first time in years felt his rage finally leave him.

[lbhslefttiddie]

admittedly i dont specialize in moshang so perhaps i am simply not seeing the scholarly discussion on the topic but whenever ive seen the idea of airplane being the guy who wrote the sv world into existence and now Lives There acknowledged in any kind of metaphysical capacity its always either been "airplane by writing the world literally created it" or "airplane was getting prophetic visions beamed to him from another world and he wrote that into a book in his" and tbh neither of these has ever really resonated with me. i dont want to overplay his involvement in the higher powers of the universe, but as a writer myself it kinda rankles to have his creative woes, which are covered in the story and are sort of the backbone of The Entire Setting, dismissed in such a way that would rob him of authorship of his own work. his writing does not innately have some power to make worlds into reality, but it's HIS.

to me he is not a god, not a prophet, just a poor author who has had his most successful work plagiarized by extra-dimensional beings who may or may not be fujoshis

[baldwinheights]

[csuitebitches]

Takeaways from my mentor 

I meet with my mentor as and when he’s available. He manages my family’s money and he’s very good at what he does - his firm manages about $5 billion, and I have great conversations with him. 

I don’t want to talk too much about him, but he came from a lower middle class background and today is wealthy beyond comprehension. He could buy a plane or two in the middle of the night if he wanted. 

Today we focused a lot of personal growth in my career. 

He gave me two books - The Inheritors by Sonu Bhasin and Fortune’s Children by Arthur Vanderbilt.

 

Here are some brief takeaways: 

Work backwards from the outcome you want. 

Define the outcome of where you want to be and plan it backwards to your current position. 

2. Eliminate, eliminate, eliminate. 

Life is all about elimination. Don’t focus  on your weaknesses, focus on your strengths. Eliminate all the things you know you’re not good at, you have no interest in and that make you depressed. 

3. Intellectual honesty. 

Be honest with yourself about things you are good at and are not.  The easiest person to fool is yourself. 

4. Read one business biography a week. 

Everything you’re going in life, there’s a 99% chance someone else has gone through it and come out of it victorious. He also mentioned this article.

5. Outline 3 strengths and 3 weaknesses.

 

6. (In business/ corporate careers) You’re either primarily an investor (you’d rather fund companies and start ups than start them), an operator (you’d rather build something hands on), or a manager (you’d rather periodically manage something hands off. Like for instance you could have your own franchise bakery chain where you don’t need to exercise minute control over every franchise but you still ensure that there’s some managing done from your part). 

7. Do not have extreme ideologies at this age. 

Not when it comes to religion, politics, etc. 

8. Emotions, money and your time are something you need to be ruthless about. Absolutely ruthless. 

Be careful about the friends you have and the influence they have on you. 

[financeprincess]

My desire to be a corporate baddie is completely gone. I once again am exclusively desiring to be an insane woman who paints and lives by the sea

[3amfanfiction]

Father MacTavish

Johnny MacTavish x you Synopsis: Nothing but religious vibes (gross) sorry guys. Father MacTavish is fed up with you flaunting yourself at every opportunity. He decides it's time for you to be shown how to be properly pious. Cw: power imbalance, religion, corporal punishment, dubcon, oral, shoe humping. This is definitely a case of another cake so thank you to everyone who's written lecherous priests before me.

Father MacTavish was a handsome sort. With his bright blue eyes and the way he filled out his dark vestments he knew he drew the eye of his followers—men and women alike. He both welcomed it and tried not to take advantage at the same time.

Even still, he had been known to slip. He was only human after all but as the Good Lord said, we are all worthy of forgiveness for our sins. We must simply ask.

He tried to remember his own mortal failings and to be gentle on his parishioners when they inevitably fell to temptation. Whether that be envying a neighbor's sudden windfall or taking the Lord's name in vain, he tried to be lenient when they told him of their sins. Tried not to lose his temper on his flock that was his to lead.

That all went out the window when someone had temerity to throw themselves at him though. Him, a man of the cloth, and some trollop wanted to be lewd in his presence? Wanted to flash an unseemly amount of thigh when they crouched down to pick up a fallen piece of paper, their breasts pushed up to their neckline in an effort to entrance him?

No. He wouldn't abide by it.

Some things simply went too far.

He drew you aside one day after the sermon, ostensibly to speak about an upcoming program the church would be putting on in the coming months. You had always been eager to help with any functions the church hosted and this time was no exception.

"Father, how can I help you?" Temptation is the sign of the devil.

"If you're not too busy my dear, I was hoping you could come by tomorrow evening? There's some logistical help I need and I know you'd be just the person for the job."

"Of course, Father MacTavish. You know I'm always available for anything you might need."

You smiled up at him, eyelashes fluttering around your pretty eyes. Even now you worked to entrance him. Temptation and lust rolled into a single pretty package attempting to sharpen your teeth on him.

"Wonderful, come find me when you get here and we'll get this all straightened out properly. Enjoy the rest of your day, my dear."

That night he prayed for the Lord's guidance as in all things. He knew he was prone to mortal failings like the rest of his flock and so looked to the Lord for assurance.

He thought back on the way your plump hips had pressed against the thin fabric of your skirt, the line of your panties showing you had forgone your slip when dressing for the day. Such immoralness filled him with emotion and he was reassured he was on the correct path.

It was his job to guide his flock out of the darkness and into the light. Satan was clearly digging his fingers into you if this was how you acted in a house of God. He wouldn't let your soul suffer eternal damnation when he could save you with a bit of discomfort now. Ending his prayer he was filled with a sense of resolution.

It was settled then.

The next evening saw you walking into the empty church in another tantalizing dress. The flowing skirt ended right at your knees, giving glimpses of your thighs with each step, a siren call of harlotry. Had you no shame? Flaunting yourself in front of a priest. It was another sign that you needed him. Needed him to guide you.

"Father MacTavish, I'm here as you requested," you chirped. "How can I help?"

Guiding you towards the alter he watched as you took in the rice spread across the ground, generous handfuls thrown against the shining wooden floor, laying in wait.

"It's how I can help you, my lamb. You've fallen to perversion and as the shepherd of your immortal soul, it is my responsibility to guide you back to the light. Now, now," he hushed you with a raised hand as you started to protest, "I know the truth of it and I care not for how it came to be. My only concern is where we go from here."

He watched you struggle, clearly wanting to argue but too cognizant of your respective standings to put up much fuss. There were glimpses of a true, pure spirit under the cover of your prurience. He would soon have it shining for all to see.

He watched as you acquiesced, having mentally run through all the arguments you could make and his likely rebuttals. This was his duty to you and he would see it through, no vacillation would change his mind.

Finally, you sank to your knees, kneeling on the grains of rice with a wince.

"You may begin your prayers, my child. I'll be here with you."

As you clasped your hands and began your recitation, he watched you. He watched the way your chest rose and fell with each breath, the way you shifted on your bed of rice, trying to find a comfortable position but each shift only making it worse, the way your face crinkled in discomfort, voice hitching with a shuddering exhalation of your words.

Even now you maintained your aura of enticement.

He began to have a reaction of the body, his cock thickening and pressing against the placket of his pants. He widened his stance, giving himself some relief from the pressure. The church was silent aside from your words, the cadence of them lulling him into a familiar headspace.

It was jarring when it was broken.

"Father, how much longer am I to pray?" you pleaded, looking up at him with watery eyes from the continuous pain of the hard grains pressing into your delicate skin, voice slightly raspy after your lengthy prayers.

"Even now you try to beguile your way out of a required lesson." Disappointing. He had had higher hopes for you. "I had prayed this would be enough for you to see the wickedness of your ways but if I must go further then I will. I won't shirk in my duty to your soul, my child."

With a world-weary sigh he moved behind you, fiddling with the front of his pants as he went. He dropped to his knees, chest to your back, and placed heavy palms on your shoulders holding you steady.

Pressing firmly into your back, he said, "Just know this doesn't bring me any joy. This is the Lord's decree and I carry it out as I carry out all my tasks. With surety that my actions will ensure your place in our Father's home when the time comes."

Sliding his hands down he came to a stop along the outsides of your thighs. Grabbing fistfuls of your skirt he began to lift.

"Father MacTavish!" you yelped, hands dropping to try and keep the fabric in place.

"Continue your prayers, child," he dropped his gathered handfuls and reached out, encircling your wrists with warm, thick fingers before moving your hands back to your front to be clasped again. "The sooner you properly repent, the sooner your lesson will end."

He pressed his palms to your hips, waiting until you shakily restarted up your prayers before tugging your skirt upwards once more, pausing each time you did. He looked down as the soft fabric raised above your backside, smooth skin covered by a thin pair of panties—all that was keeping you from him.

Your voice stuttered to a stop as he dipped his hand between your thighs, stroking from your clit through your dampening slit, your underwear slowly darkening as he pressed it ever so slightly inside of you before withdrawing. You squealed in shock as he pulled back to swat a quick palm to your swelling clit.

"Why must I keep repeating myself? What is it I told you to do?"

"Y—you told me to keep praying. Father." you stuttered, tongue tripping over your words in your shock.

"And did you forget the words to your prayers?"

"No, Father."

"Then continue."

As you once more began to recite your orisons he returned to his stroking—a steady draw from clit through slit, the gusset of your panties all that separated him from your skin. Your warmth radiated through the fabric now dark with slick. A wet rasp heard during the lulls of your speech as he dragged his strong fingers over the cloth.

You were soaked by the time he deigned to pull them to the side and repeat his actions, this time dragging through damp curls before your plump lips spread around the tip of his fingers—nothing to shield your most intimate place from him.

He restrained himself at first—never pushing inside, just a slow drag of skin against skin as he spread your wetness across your folds. You squirmed in place, caught between the pain of kneeling and the pleasure he was providing. A hitching of your hips before a shuffling of your knees.

Your gasped protests as he eventually sunk his finger in to the knuckle did nothing to deter him. If anything, the resultant wave of heat that made its way through his body confirmed he was on the right path. He must show you the sins of the life you were leading.

It was his duty.

One finger quickly became two became three. He pressed and caressed, stroking along the delicate skin of your insides, fingers catching on a sensitive spongy bit that had a strangled gasp slipping from your lips. He played you like a harp—never ceasing, never faltering.

Your slick dripped down to his wrist by the time he deemed you suitably prepared. Holding your panties to the side he notched his tip against your opening and pressed inward, his fingers clenching and tugging at your dress where they were clutched at your hips. He struggled to maintain his composure at the feel of your wet heat. The slick press of you stroked along the sensitive skin of his cockhead, stirring him to greater heights with every centimeter gained.

"I cant, Father MacTavish it's too mu-ch!" you ended on a yelp as he took your distraction to push in another inch, drawing back and pressing forward in a sawing motion, teasing you with the possibility that he might seat himself fully each time. Your slick covered his cock, allowing each subsequent stroke to glide more smoothly than the last.

"This is to be your lesson. When you act like a whore you will be treated like a whore. You worked so hard to draw my eye and now you have it," he asserted with a curled lip.

Pushing firmly one last time he pressed his hips to your backside, sliding deeply inside you as he kissed your cervix. Tears fell from your eyes in sheets, a constant outpouring at the overwhelming sensations as you scrambled for purchase.

"I do this to save your soul, child, now be a good lamb and take it," he snarled and snapped his hips into you with force, a smack sounding with each meeting between the fat of your backside and his pelvis. He maintained his rhythm for a few moments before coming to a standstill, pressed deeply inside of you.

"I don't believe I told you to stop your prayers," he sighed. "This reminding is becoming quite tedious."

He reached down and pinched harshly at your clit causing you to squeal and attempt to buck up, away from his grip. He followed along with you, keeping an unyielding grip on the sensitive bundle of nerves. If you'd been crying before you were downright sobbing now.

"I'm sorry Father, it's just . . . it hurts. The rice hurts."

"If your dress wasn't the length of a whore's then this wouldn't hurt nearly as much. You would've had a soft layer between you and the rice but you wanted to flaunt yourself in God's house."

Sniffling, you started up once more—a hitching recitation echoing off the ornate walls of the church, the only sound beside the rasp and clap of skin on skin.

He made a game of it. He knew he shouldn't, that this was a lesson for his one of his flock and not something he should be using to entertain himself but he found himself falling into a pattern. He would pick up a steady rhythm of thrusts—allowing you to catch your breath and for your speech to take on a steady cadence before driving forward with vigor, punching into you with sharp, biting thrusts causing you to lose your breath and your place. He wanted to see if you could maintain your composure through your trials.

You hadn't yet.

It was during one of these stretches that you began to tense up, pushing back to meet him with each drive of his hips as if you were chasing something of your own. With a reedy cry you came, squeezing around him rhythmically as you stuttered to a stop, too caught up in the sensations to continue speaking.

He froze—a thunderous look crossing his face.

"Did you just find release around my cock?" he hissed in shock. "And I thought we had reached the end of your depravity."

He didn't give you time to plead your case, resuming his thrusting and ignoring your pleading as he pressed through your over-stimulation and built you back up towards another release. He clenched his hands on your hips, your dress crinkling between his fingers.

With each firm pull back onto his cock the fabric of along your chest pulled taut, inching downward towards where it was being tugged. You choked as the fabric finally gave way, sinking down below your breasts to allow them to spill out of the low neckline. Your lack of bra ensured they swung madly to his tempo.

You were just beginning to flutter around his length, muscles dancing to a beat only they knew, when he stopped completely and pulled out, ignoring the breathy what? you squeaked out.

Pulling back, his thick cock fell to the side, smearing your wetness against his furred thigh and trousers as a heavy plap was heard. Rising with a grunt he moved around to your front, looking down at you kneeling on your bed of rice. What a picture you made. Your breasts spilled over the top of your dress and your face was shiny with tears, eyes red-rimmed and glossy.

Beautiful.

"Oh my child, look at what a mess you've made of yourself." He reached out to wipe away a tear, "I know this must be difficult but we must preserver through our trials in order to find the Lord's grace. Now—open," he commanded, tapping the tip of his cock against your tear stained lips, "and put that provoking tongue out."

You sniffled and opened your mouth, hesitantly sticking out your tongue as he'd commanded. He waited and watched as drool collected and then dropped off the tip. Pressing forwards he dragged his sensitive head along the muscle. He sighed in relief at the sensation, teasing himself with a side-to-side caress before he slid into your heat.

He bit back a groan as the wet sensation swallowed him, watching as you made a slight face at the combined taste of you. He rocked himself forward gently, allowing you to get used to the sensation before slowly deepening his strokes.

Slowly sliding down to the back of your mouth, he held there for a moment, letting the drool gather as you fought not to gag around his length. Your lips were smooth where they had stretched wide around his girth, jaw mostly likely already aching.

Pulling back he let you catch your breath, swallowing and coughing as you received unobstructed access to air. He caressed the side of your face gently.

"You look so beautiful like this," he hummed, "practically angelic. Do you feel you have learned your lesson? Have you come to understand God's will?"

When you nodded furiously he smiled fondly and slid his foot forward, shiny black shoe coming to rest comfortably between your spread thighs.

"I am not completely without compassion, my child. Go ahead, you may use my foot to bring yourself to release while you continue."

It wasn't surprising how quickly you shifted to rest your covered center over the tip of his shoe, mouth opening as you leaned towards him, looking to have him in your mouth once more.

He reached out to hold onto the sides of your head, guiding you to his preferred tempo as you humped shamelessly on his foot. He knew his shoe would be shined slick by the time you were done.

After having teased himself for so long it was no shock how quickly his own release was on him. He held onto it with gritted teeth as he watched you climb towards your own high once more, waiting out your convulsions before pulling back to paint your breasts with his spend. He watched them glisten, dripping white as he caught his breath.

Tucking himself away he helped you to your feet, tweaking your nipples before he pulled the fabric of your dress up over them once more, covering the evidence of his release with the cloth.

He wiped your tear-stained cheeks with fondness, "There, there, no need for further tears. It's over and done with, my child, nothing further to worry about."

He guided you to the entrance of the church after you had composed yourself, eyes still puffy and red-rimmed but clear. He kept a hand placed low on your back to steady you.

"I trust you've learned the errors of your ways?" When you nodded firmly he smiled warmly. "Good. Then be at peace in the Lord's forgiveness."

He ushered you out of the church and closed the door behind you, never knowing you were mentally going through your dress options, already planning on a shorter length for this Sunday's service.

|||

All Stories || Main Repository

[duckshuffled]

chip and spruce going camping together or something

hii i hope this is okay for the prompt whee. wasn't too too sure what The Deforestation Brothers over here would get out of some quality time in nature so i just figured spruce talked chip into making a day out of some assignment because he is strange and unusual

[genericpuff]

“All interns get paid” huh hades?

look he can't get away with secretly paying kore if he leaves the evidence of it in her employment info oop-

[psychology-department]

why didnt they just do this? are they stupid?

[tovanori]

This is how working at a corporate job has made me feel.

[caput-medusae]

i have a migraine and a cursed thought:

[citric-acid-rain]

GO! FAST!

A LITTLE SPEED WILL MAKE YOU WANT A LITTLE MORE!

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

Republicans are always on the same page and their latest talking point is government waste and (false) claims of federal employees not working. There were no studies done on this. One day they just decided to wrongly victimize federal employees. Their propaganda machine is the slickest and best funded of any in history. After a few days of lambasting federal workers the public now believes federal employees aren’t working.

The truth is federal employees are overworked and underpaid just like everyone else in America. The reverse only being true for CEOs. This is the same thing that Republicans did to teachers in the late 90’s into the early 2000’s. That was so successful that even progressive liberals like most of you believe without a second thought. The goal then was to reduce costs and privatize to enrich oligarchs.

So what is the endgame for Republican oligarchs now. Same as it always is. Remove regulations, and even whole governmental agencies, so there is no oversight over businesses. Without government oversight capitalism runs amok and saves billions of dollars per year at the expense of the consumer, the workforce, and the environment. Some of the agencies will be privatized allowing the oligarchs to gorge themselves even further on your tax dollars.

The oligarchs are the puppeteers pulling the strings of their Republican pawns. They are the enemy and it’s as simple as that. It’s all about money and everything else is a smokescreen to distract the masses from seeing money and power being transferred to the 1%.

The culture wars are just a tool to divide us and cover their. Look and dagger theft. The racists, the religious fanatics, the homophobes, the militias, the misogynists, the MAGA cult, are all just pawns to divide, distract, and ultimately conquer the country and turn us into powerless, voiceless wage slaves. It was always about money and power and will always be. At some point we as a people will have to directly remove the oligarchs or else forever be their serfs.