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Minnesota Moore and the Emperors' Treasure
- Thread starter Praefectus Praetorio
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Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Aw, Barb! You know we all love what those CFM heels do for your tight, little!
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Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
P. Pulp forwarded this message
Hello all! I'm back home in the sunny islands after a most enjoyable long weekend in the Northern Forest. The 15 year old I went to sample was well worth the trip, smooth yet firm, truly delectable! They really know how to age that in Scotland!! Despite that computer crash nonsense excuse!
Back to Minnesota Moore, hot post this afternoon. (Bahamian time)
Hello all! I'm back home in the sunny islands after a most enjoyable long weekend in the Northern Forest. The 15 year old I went to sample was well worth the trip, smooth yet firm, truly delectable! They really know how to age that in Scotland!! Despite that computer crash nonsense excuse!
Back to Minnesota Moore, hot post this afternoon. (Bahamian time)
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 9 April 11, 2018
It was the last evening before Barbara was scheduled to depart on her latest adventure. She and Geoffrey had gone out for a nice, but light, supper, had come home and cuddled by the fire enjoying good wine and even better kissing and petting. The petting had been followed by mutual undressing and now they were naked in bed kissing deeply.
Coming up for air, Barb said, “You have a very good way with your tongue, Sir Geoffrey.”
She had used this opening many times and Geoff was nothing loath to follow her hint.
“Well, I have told you how I was dragooned into playing the bugle in my High School marching Band. There’s nothing like the bugle to develop strength and dexterity in the lips and tongue.”
“And you still seem to have both,” cooed Barb.
“To paraphrase Lewis Carroll, ‘And the muscular strength, which it gave to my mouth, has lasted the rest of my life.’ But why do you raise the issue of my tongue? Dear Barbara?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to demonstrate its dexterity on another part of my body?”
“Your wish is this Knight’s command, fair Lady. You just lean back, close your eyes, open your legs, and think of England.”
Barb laid back and closed her eyes and spread her legs. But she did not think of England.
Instead her mind wandered to her favorite and oldest fantasy, “Damsel in Distress.”
When Barb was just a little girl, she became fascinated with pictures of girls in peril being rescued by handsome knights in shining armor. She knew that her early interest in Medieval History sprung from this source. As she entered adolescence, Barb retained the fantasy, but it changed and evolved. It become more sensual, then later, explicitly sexual. She would…“Oh, Geoffrey!”
Geoff wasn’t one to rush the goal. This time he had started on her smooth, flat belly, caressing the slight mound with his lips and tongue and now using that tongue to explore her deep navel! Whew!
She would imagine herself bravely facing various perils. The male hero rescuing her gradually faded from her fantasies, replaced by her saving herself by her wits, or, more and more frequently, not being saved at all, and enduring the tortures threatened. Alone on her bed at night, she would satisfy herself as she dreamed of horrible tortures at the hands of various evil-doers. They would…“OH! Yes, yes, that’s very good, Sir Geoffrey!”
He has moved on to her inner thighs threatening to reach the ultimate goal any moment.
Barb had never shared her fantasy with anyone, not even Geoff. She was too ashamed. She worried a man would think her twisted and sick. Or worse, might try to take advantage of her. She had shared her turn-on from spanking, something they mutually enjoyed. That seemed tame to Barb and not shameful. But her masochistic desires seemed an embarrassing mix of girlish fantasy and perverted adult eroticism. Not at all proper for a very independent, assertive, feminist, woman! Little did she know that ‘Sir Geoffrey,’ while acting the perfect Knight Bachelor in real life, had similar fantasies of doing dastardly things to helpless females. So, as with many others, they had missed out on sharing a deep, mutual interest.
Not that the sex wasn’t any good. Now Barb’s mind was torn for a moment from reliving her sexual history by Geoffrey getting to his goal, planting his lips and tongue on her cunt!
“God, yes,” she moaned as his lips were kissing her nether lips and his tongue began to tease her clitoris.
So good! She thought. He is so good at this! She bucked and shivered as he sucked her clit into his mouth to swipe back and forth with that marvelous tongue!
Barb pulled her mind back to her fantasy. This time she was strapped to an X bondage cross, naked and helpless in the semi-dark. There would be no rescue and she could not escape on her own. As Geoff made her loins seem to engorge with arousal, she waited for the nameless horror awaiting her. Then she saw it: three grinning Nazi’s coming slowly toward her. Closer and closer out of the dark. Then she saw, glowing in the dark, the branding irons they held, dark red swastikas to brand her as theirs forever!
Barb’s futile struggle against her bonds coincided with Geoff doing deep strokes up and down her pussy lips, each time at the top giving a little flick to her lovebud. Barb’s skin was warm and glowing with desire. She smelled the fresh flowers Geoff always had by the bedside as well as his masculine scent. She marveled at how his ministrations on her pussy turned on every part of her body.
The Nazis were coming closer, the peril was unbearable. But Barb didn’t scream or beg. She was too brave a girl! She saw them studying her breasts and belly, her cunt and hips and thighs, planning where they would burn first, and second, and then…
Her pussy was soaked now and her hips were in constant motion. Her skin felt super sensitive, ready to howl with pain when the brands were applied. The buildup in her loins seemed ready to explode. Geoff was kissing her lips softly while flicking her clit back and forth and up and down with his strong tongue. He reached both hands up to tease her swollen, sensitive nipples.
The Nazis were close now, the glowing irons just inches from her skin. Geoff began a slow and steady stroke up and down her clit. It was too much! The Nazis put the hot irons on her tender skin and she screamed.
Barb screamed at the top of her lungs. Geoff held tight on her thrusting hips and kept his tongue working her exploding clit!
Barb felt as if she blacked out. Whether from the pain of the branding irons or the intensity of her orgasm, she didn’t know. Everything was bright white and her pussy was on fire!
A couple minutes later, Barb had recovered enough to open her eyes. There was Geoff with his sweet, shy little smile. His lips silently mouthed, “I love you.”
Barb mouthed the same. She did love him very much. At that moment she decided to give him something she very rarely gave any man. But he had earned it, the old dear!
It was the last evening before Barbara was scheduled to depart on her latest adventure. She and Geoffrey had gone out for a nice, but light, supper, had come home and cuddled by the fire enjoying good wine and even better kissing and petting. The petting had been followed by mutual undressing and now they were naked in bed kissing deeply.
Coming up for air, Barb said, “You have a very good way with your tongue, Sir Geoffrey.”
She had used this opening many times and Geoff was nothing loath to follow her hint.
“Well, I have told you how I was dragooned into playing the bugle in my High School marching Band. There’s nothing like the bugle to develop strength and dexterity in the lips and tongue.”
“And you still seem to have both,” cooed Barb.
“To paraphrase Lewis Carroll, ‘And the muscular strength, which it gave to my mouth, has lasted the rest of my life.’ But why do you raise the issue of my tongue? Dear Barbara?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to demonstrate its dexterity on another part of my body?”
“Your wish is this Knight’s command, fair Lady. You just lean back, close your eyes, open your legs, and think of England.”
Barb laid back and closed her eyes and spread her legs. But she did not think of England.
Instead her mind wandered to her favorite and oldest fantasy, “Damsel in Distress.”
When Barb was just a little girl, she became fascinated with pictures of girls in peril being rescued by handsome knights in shining armor. She knew that her early interest in Medieval History sprung from this source. As she entered adolescence, Barb retained the fantasy, but it changed and evolved. It become more sensual, then later, explicitly sexual. She would…“Oh, Geoffrey!”
Geoff wasn’t one to rush the goal. This time he had started on her smooth, flat belly, caressing the slight mound with his lips and tongue and now using that tongue to explore her deep navel! Whew!
She would imagine herself bravely facing various perils. The male hero rescuing her gradually faded from her fantasies, replaced by her saving herself by her wits, or, more and more frequently, not being saved at all, and enduring the tortures threatened. Alone on her bed at night, she would satisfy herself as she dreamed of horrible tortures at the hands of various evil-doers. They would…“OH! Yes, yes, that’s very good, Sir Geoffrey!”
He has moved on to her inner thighs threatening to reach the ultimate goal any moment.
Barb had never shared her fantasy with anyone, not even Geoff. She was too ashamed. She worried a man would think her twisted and sick. Or worse, might try to take advantage of her. She had shared her turn-on from spanking, something they mutually enjoyed. That seemed tame to Barb and not shameful. But her masochistic desires seemed an embarrassing mix of girlish fantasy and perverted adult eroticism. Not at all proper for a very independent, assertive, feminist, woman! Little did she know that ‘Sir Geoffrey,’ while acting the perfect Knight Bachelor in real life, had similar fantasies of doing dastardly things to helpless females. So, as with many others, they had missed out on sharing a deep, mutual interest.
Not that the sex wasn’t any good. Now Barb’s mind was torn for a moment from reliving her sexual history by Geoffrey getting to his goal, planting his lips and tongue on her cunt!
“God, yes,” she moaned as his lips were kissing her nether lips and his tongue began to tease her clitoris.
So good! She thought. He is so good at this! She bucked and shivered as he sucked her clit into his mouth to swipe back and forth with that marvelous tongue!
Barb pulled her mind back to her fantasy. This time she was strapped to an X bondage cross, naked and helpless in the semi-dark. There would be no rescue and she could not escape on her own. As Geoff made her loins seem to engorge with arousal, she waited for the nameless horror awaiting her. Then she saw it: three grinning Nazi’s coming slowly toward her. Closer and closer out of the dark. Then she saw, glowing in the dark, the branding irons they held, dark red swastikas to brand her as theirs forever!
Barb’s futile struggle against her bonds coincided with Geoff doing deep strokes up and down her pussy lips, each time at the top giving a little flick to her lovebud. Barb’s skin was warm and glowing with desire. She smelled the fresh flowers Geoff always had by the bedside as well as his masculine scent. She marveled at how his ministrations on her pussy turned on every part of her body.
The Nazis were coming closer, the peril was unbearable. But Barb didn’t scream or beg. She was too brave a girl! She saw them studying her breasts and belly, her cunt and hips and thighs, planning where they would burn first, and second, and then…
Her pussy was soaked now and her hips were in constant motion. Her skin felt super sensitive, ready to howl with pain when the brands were applied. The buildup in her loins seemed ready to explode. Geoff was kissing her lips softly while flicking her clit back and forth and up and down with his strong tongue. He reached both hands up to tease her swollen, sensitive nipples.
The Nazis were close now, the glowing irons just inches from her skin. Geoff began a slow and steady stroke up and down her clit. It was too much! The Nazis put the hot irons on her tender skin and she screamed.
Barb screamed at the top of her lungs. Geoff held tight on her thrusting hips and kept his tongue working her exploding clit!
Barb felt as if she blacked out. Whether from the pain of the branding irons or the intensity of her orgasm, she didn’t know. Everything was bright white and her pussy was on fire!
A couple minutes later, Barb had recovered enough to open her eyes. There was Geoff with his sweet, shy little smile. His lips silently mouthed, “I love you.”
Barb mouthed the same. She did love him very much. At that moment she decided to give him something she very rarely gave any man. But he had earned it, the old dear!
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Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Apparently Geoffrey's townhouse has a rodent infestation problem. Else where did this shot come from?
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Geoffrey apparently has a totally out of date telephone too.[/QUOTE]He just likes the classics, like Barb!
Hard to authenticate, but popularly regarded as a common Victorian phrase. 'Lie back and think of England', or as it is more often expressed these days 'close your eyes and think of England', was used in two contexts. Firstly, it was, or later dramas have portrayed that it was, advice given by a mother to her daughter on her wedding night. Sex education wasn't all that it might have been in the early 20th century.
The other context is of advice given by a woman friend to a loveless wife. Marriage was a route to economic security for women in Edwardian England and many must have seen the granting of sexual favours as an unwelcome price to pay for it.
Perhaps inspired by
'In A Strange Land', which was published anonymously, but presumably by a homesick ex-patriot, in the New Zealand newspaper The Evening Post, in February 1905:
Oh, to lie awake at night and think of England,
Out of reach and far away;
Oh, to see her in the distance as a picture,
And let your fancy play.
Supposedly recorded in a 1912 Diary:
"When I hear his steps [her husband's] outside my door I lie down on my bed, open my legs and think of England."
- from www.phrases.org.uk
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
If the readers can tear themselves away from thoughts of that (in Barb's words) very hot cunnilingus, I should point out that beginning in the next chapter, Mr. Pulp says that he has dropped hints to figuring out the mystery and the key to the treasure. So stay alert and read carefully.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Chapter 10 April 12, 2019
At 10:45 AM, Lufthansa flight 925 from London’s Heathrow began its descent to Frankfurt am Main. Barbara looked out the window to see the familiar sight of the modern city with its distinctive skyscrapers, mixed with (mostly reconstructed) medieval row houses, nestled along the picturesque Main river.
The 90-minute flight in first class (Windar would complain, but Barb loved the luxury when the University paid), had given Barb a chance to read the vintage paperback Geoff had found for her. The Emperors’ Gold, by Umberto Eco. In contrast to his novels (including the widely read, Il Nome Della Rosa, with over 50 million copies sold worldwide and later made into a movie and an upcoming TV series), this was a short (108 pages) historical essay summarizing the legend of the lost treasure. Barb found it very enjoyable pop history which was surprisingly faithful to the academic truths.
But a pop history book from the 80’s would not find the source of her manuscript or the location of the treasure. More and more, Barbara was thinking that her expedition must find the hiding place of the treasure itself. Her mania for complete historical accuracy and perfection required that the treasure, not just a monk’s description, was the true quest. The only value she thought of was the historical value of the find.
Dr. Moore had sent a summary of the manuscript to Dean Windar, being careful to withhold the key passages of brother Nickolas going to the palace and then finding the treasure himself. Barb was sure that the key to her finding it was in those sections. There was no reason to give anyone else a chance to decode the way.
Barb had memorized the key sections, and after finishing Eco’s account, she turned them over and over in her mind looking for the answer. Nikolas had gone to the ruins of the palace and found the room which had the answer. He described the room, and Barb believed once she was in the palace, she could find the room.
The problem was what was in the room, the triclinium. Of course, for a secret treasure stash, there would be no Robert Lewis Stevenson treasure map on a wall with a dotted line leading to an ”X” marks the spot. But Nickolas reported that there was really nothing at all there to help. No writing at all. Not one letter. No map or topographical display. The room was decorated with the standard mosaics and frescos of the time of Diocletian. Nickolas describes them in complete and loving detail.
The floor was covered with a brightly colored ocean bay scene mosaic. Blue water filled the space between two headlands with a great variety of sea creatures. Fishes, crabs, clams, octopus, whales and more. It was like a seafood menu in picture.
One wall was a fresco of fishermen with boats and lines and nets, bringing in the bounty of the sea that had been depicted on the floor mosaic. Boxes overflowing with seafood were being loaded on carts which wound their way over a hill out of sight
Another wall had a fresco of rolling fields of grain, harvesters going here and there while threshers winnowed the grains on a floor. Men carrying sacks of grain on their shoulder to waiting wagons, some of which were climbing a nearby hill, presumably heading for the palace.
The next wall had a hunting scene in woodland, men on horseback preceded by beaters and dogs following a zoo like display of game: deer, boar, chamois, ibex, and brown bear. Animals shot with arrows and dying. Men skinning and dressing the catch. Others hanging the meat on hooks in a cart. Other, heavily laden carts were pulled by oxen up a rocky hill to stock the Emperor’s larder.
The last wall was covered with a pastoral scene, with herds of domestic animals, sheep, goats, cows. Shepherds were leading them, dogs running around. Cows being milked. Slaughterhouse, shearers, packers. Bags of wool and dressed carcasses loaded and carted up the hill toward town.
All were normal scenes on a Roman house, especially the triclinium, the dining room. It was traditional for the decorative art on the walls to relate to food or the source of food.
As the plane touched down, Dr. Moore was no closer to an answer.
At 10:45 AM, Lufthansa flight 925 from London’s Heathrow began its descent to Frankfurt am Main. Barbara looked out the window to see the familiar sight of the modern city with its distinctive skyscrapers, mixed with (mostly reconstructed) medieval row houses, nestled along the picturesque Main river.
The 90-minute flight in first class (Windar would complain, but Barb loved the luxury when the University paid), had given Barb a chance to read the vintage paperback Geoff had found for her. The Emperors’ Gold, by Umberto Eco. In contrast to his novels (including the widely read, Il Nome Della Rosa, with over 50 million copies sold worldwide and later made into a movie and an upcoming TV series), this was a short (108 pages) historical essay summarizing the legend of the lost treasure. Barb found it very enjoyable pop history which was surprisingly faithful to the academic truths.
But a pop history book from the 80’s would not find the source of her manuscript or the location of the treasure. More and more, Barbara was thinking that her expedition must find the hiding place of the treasure itself. Her mania for complete historical accuracy and perfection required that the treasure, not just a monk’s description, was the true quest. The only value she thought of was the historical value of the find.
Dr. Moore had sent a summary of the manuscript to Dean Windar, being careful to withhold the key passages of brother Nickolas going to the palace and then finding the treasure himself. Barb was sure that the key to her finding it was in those sections. There was no reason to give anyone else a chance to decode the way.
Barb had memorized the key sections, and after finishing Eco’s account, she turned them over and over in her mind looking for the answer. Nikolas had gone to the ruins of the palace and found the room which had the answer. He described the room, and Barb believed once she was in the palace, she could find the room.
The problem was what was in the room, the triclinium. Of course, for a secret treasure stash, there would be no Robert Lewis Stevenson treasure map on a wall with a dotted line leading to an ”X” marks the spot. But Nickolas reported that there was really nothing at all there to help. No writing at all. Not one letter. No map or topographical display. The room was decorated with the standard mosaics and frescos of the time of Diocletian. Nickolas describes them in complete and loving detail.
The floor was covered with a brightly colored ocean bay scene mosaic. Blue water filled the space between two headlands with a great variety of sea creatures. Fishes, crabs, clams, octopus, whales and more. It was like a seafood menu in picture.
One wall was a fresco of fishermen with boats and lines and nets, bringing in the bounty of the sea that had been depicted on the floor mosaic. Boxes overflowing with seafood were being loaded on carts which wound their way over a hill out of sight
Another wall had a fresco of rolling fields of grain, harvesters going here and there while threshers winnowed the grains on a floor. Men carrying sacks of grain on their shoulder to waiting wagons, some of which were climbing a nearby hill, presumably heading for the palace.
The next wall had a hunting scene in woodland, men on horseback preceded by beaters and dogs following a zoo like display of game: deer, boar, chamois, ibex, and brown bear. Animals shot with arrows and dying. Men skinning and dressing the catch. Others hanging the meat on hooks in a cart. Other, heavily laden carts were pulled by oxen up a rocky hill to stock the Emperor’s larder.
The last wall was covered with a pastoral scene, with herds of domestic animals, sheep, goats, cows. Shepherds were leading them, dogs running around. Cows being milked. Slaughterhouse, shearers, packers. Bags of wool and dressed carcasses loaded and carted up the hill toward town.
All were normal scenes on a Roman house, especially the triclinium, the dining room. It was traditional for the decorative art on the walls to relate to food or the source of food.
As the plane touched down, Dr. Moore was no closer to an answer.
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Good thing for my tight little that the Dean’s cane and desktop are thousands of miles away
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Beware the "long arm" or long cane of the Windar!Good thing for my tight little that the Dean’s cane and desktop are thousands of miles away
You might not get through this adventure unscathed.
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Frankfurt at night
Historical District
A triclinium (this one much smaller than you'd expect for an Emperor).
And... Windar!
Historical District
A triclinium (this one much smaller than you'd expect for an Emperor).
And... Windar!
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A triclinium (much smaller than you'd expect for an Emperor).
Looks comfy...
And... Windar!
Does not look comfy...
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Lord! Where do you think this was? The Northern Forest?What? No naked slave girls??
Every Emperor and every Roman wasn't Caligula!
The triclinium was usually a place of refined enjoyment of food. Yes, some had naked girls and sexual acts painted on the walls. But most of the walls remaining were much more restrained.
Lord! Where do you think this was? The Northern Forest?
Surely the Romans encountered the Northern Forest “linkie hunts” there? Best to check with an expert on the matter. Calling Eulalia!
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Yes it didn't always go well for British women under Roman rule.Surely the Romans encountered the Northern Forest “linkie hunts” there? Best to check with an expert on the matter. Calling Eulalia!
"iam primum uxor eius Boudicca verberibus adfecta et filiae stupro violatae sunt" Tacitus, Annales 14.31
[stuprum means "disgrace," or "dishonor," particularly sexual. Tacitus uses a euphemism for rape.]
At 10:45 AM, Lufthansa flight 925 from London’s Heathrow began its descent to Frankfurt am Main. Barbara looked out the window to see the familiar sight of the modern city with its distinctive skyscrapers, mixed with (mostly reconstructed) medieval row houses, nestled along the picturesque Main river.
