AudioThrust

This month's patron-funded story is "Heart's Thief" by Emily L. Byrne, narrated by Lauren B. Harris. Welcome to our newest patron, Cleo! Call the voicemail line at (571)297-3325 Ashara slipped through the window, pulling her hook and rope in behind her. The gesture came so easily it was as if she hadn't just had to climb the wall and pick the lock. All around her, the room was still and dark as an abyss and the night breeze sent a light shiver over her exposed arms. She wondered why she sensed no guards, no magical alarms. After all, she had come for the Heart of El Kyraz, a ruby big as a man's fist. It was said that the stone had great powers if one had the strength to command it. Surely a gem merchant of Sher Kalia's status would at least have mortal guards to protect such a jewel. Rumor held that she'd had one of the most famous wizards in the city as her lover. She'd have asked for wards, have asked him to send the cold blue light of his power around her most cherished possessions. The price of such protection would have been nothing more than pillow talk to someone as wealthy as Kalia.

This month's patron-funded story is "My Heart Beats Backwards" by Neil James Hudson, narrated by Nobilis Reed. I still hadn't mastered walking backwards. It looked simple, but after a short while became exhausting. Nonetheless, it was an essential skill if I were to pass as normal. I could manage speech. It had been difficult at first, but with the help of a radio and tape recorder I'd been able to work out which sounds were which when reversed--it wasn't always obvious. Once I'd worked out how to listen backwards and understand what was being said, I found that I could pronounce the syllables in reverse myself, and be understood--although I preferred to keep conversations short, as I could never predict what had just been said. I looked around me. It still looked strange: an entire city in reverse, walking backwards while looking forwards but somehow never colliding. It was difficult to remember that I was the odd one out: that everyone else lived normally, but I had gone into reverse gear. I sighed, and set off again, slower than everyone else. I tried to avoid them, but I simply wasn't fluent. I would hear tuts and grunts, warnings that I was about to bump into someone. Behind me I heard sobbing. I would have liked to stop and help, but it was impossible when you lived as I did. I heard a woman's voice: it was difficult to translate it through the tears, but I realised she was saying, "you don't even know you're leaving!" I ignored her. She seemed to be walking backwards in the same direction as me, so we were unlikely to collide. "You don't even know you're leaving!" she shouted again. And then the single word, "no!" And then I felt her grab my arm, and realised that I was in trouble. I turned to face her. "You don't even know who I am!" she said.

This month's patron-funded story comes to us from Nyla Lustre, and is read for us by Opoponax of the Flash Pulp podcast. Test Subjects Wanted Earn extra credit and extra cash while you advance science! Flexible appointments Contact Professor Farough, Faculty Office B6 Macy took one of the flyers pinned to the bulletin board outside the psychology lab and carefully tucked it into her canvas backpack. She wasn't doing as well as she had hoped in her abnormal psychology class and could use both the extra points and extra cash. She'd never had Dr. Farough for any of her classes, but she'd heard that he was an eccentric teacher. After her last class of the day, she headed over to the faculty building and wound her way down an ancient staircase to the basement level. The dim lighting overhead made the corridor look extra creepy. She only saw one light on, spilling through a half opened door. Crossing her fingers that she hadn't made the journey for nothing, she crept up to the door. Dr. Farough was on the phone, whispering. "I know I said it'd be ready next month, but more testing is needed," he said, nervously tapping his fingers against his desk. As if sensing her presence, he turned to the door and motioned that she sit in an uncomfortable lumpy chair on the other side of his scarred wooden desk.

This month's patron-funded story is "Hard Sci Fi" by S. Wolf, read by Nobilis Reed. They say you're not a real spaceman until you've fucked a guy in zero-g. Easy enough to screw in the habitation pod with centrifugal force plus a hunk keeping you pinned to the bed and panting. But leave the pod and things get much more difficult. For every action, an opposite reaction. For each thrust, you will deflect backwards, and coast until you smash into something. By the time you've slowed down, any number of things could happen. You could shatter a limb. Or spin out into space. Or hit the wrong bulkhead and detonate a fuel tank. Or lose your boner. Only a true astronaut can fuck while calculating Newtonian physics. Technically, I was still a cadet when Sunglow suggested we leave the habitation pylon for some fun. But Sunglow had been an starfarer for twenty standard years and if he said you were ready, that was enough for anyone.

This month's Patreon-funded story is "Coyote and the Principles of Things" by Piper, read by Jhada Addams.

October's patron-funded story is "Kintsugi" by M. Christian. This BDSM-flavored bisexual social science fiction story is read by Yours Truly, Nobilis Reed. To help pay the authors and voices that create these stories, visit patreon.com/nobilis.

This extra episode is chapter one of Monster Whisperer: Third Party, the third book in my Monster Whisperer series. This novel is going out as bonus content for supporters of the Nobilis Erotica Patreon campaign.

This month's patron-funded story is "A Certain Tantarii" by Andra Dill, narrated by Scottie Calif. Starting this month, supporters of the Patreon campaign will be getting chapters of the third book in my Monster Whisperer series, "Monster Whisperer Third Class"

This month's story is a "command performance" story funded by patron Arioch Morningstar, who signed up on the $100 level for a story written to his specifications. If you want a story like this, go to the Nobilis Erotica Patreon campaign. Or if that's a bit pricey for you, there are plenty of options for your budget.

This month's patron-funded story is "Accursed" by Lynne Sargent, read by Lauren Harris. It finally happens one night. As she's always been told it would. Sure, she thought that it had happened before- but she was mistaken. Haven't we all been? But no, this time it happens. They are in bed. It is a work night, and she is riding him again. They try to rotate positions, for many reasons: excitement, change, because the magazine told them to so they feel like they should. It doesn't much matter to her, though; Mostly they all feel the same. But not this time. This time the thunder cracks outside and she feels herself crack with it. he is conjoined with him one moment; the next she is sound. And now she knows what it is supposed to feel like. As it reverberates through her body she keeps on plodding, rolling her hips over the valley between his thighs until his face contorts the same way she supposes hers must have. How funny, that he did not notice. That he still does not notice, but of course he is asleep before she has even dismounted. He snores, but that night it is the echoes of the thunder that she hears in her dreams.

This month's patron-funded story is "Dino Space Pirates" by Stu Chebooch, narrated by Nobilis Reed. The ship hung derelict in space. Puffs of gas escaped intermittently from the hull. Its drive engine lay ripped open, inner parts exposed. The fuel had long since evaporated. Inside the hull, two people were working. "Crap," said Marianne Vega. She pushed back from the machine she had been working on, holding out the soldering iron. "There's hardly any battery power left. This will keep life support going for another few hours. Maybe five, if we're lucky." Peggy Terrid took the soldering iron and put it back on the work table. It clattered slowly in the low gravity. "How about a distress call, Captain Vega?" "No good," she replied. "The hyperwave fried during our last call. If anyone had heard us, they'd be here by now. It was a war zone, after all, we're the last thing they'll be thinking about. We could send radio waves, but they won't be received for months. We'll be long dead. Us and our 25 passengers." She looked at the soldering iron. "We may as well turn off the rest of the gravity. Divert everything to life support." As Peggy packed up the tool box, Marianne Vega placed a hand on her shoulder. "Dismissed, Lieutenant. I'll be on the Bridge. Do as you see fit." "If it's all the same, I'll be there with you, Captain," Peggy replied. Captain Vega made it to the bridge before the gravity cut out. She strapped herself into her Captain's chair. Eighteen adults and their children had put their trust in her to get them out of the war zone. "It should have worked, damn it," she muttered. "One lousy stray shot." Peggy Terrid came onto the Bridge. "Gravity out in two minutes," she announced, then took a seat at the navigator's station. The gravity lessened, then went to free fall. The lights dimmed. Captain Vega drifted, then began to doze. Minutes passed, and rolled into hours. Her head drifted to one side in the microgravity, weightless. Her eyes blinked, then squeezed open. A red light was blinking on the console. "Peggy..." she started. But Peggy was already on it. "Incoming signal, Captain," she said briskly. Her swiftly moving fingers activated the console. Captain Vega straightened in her chair. "Full lights. Onscreen." "Ahoy, the ship!" called a voice. "Dinos..." Peggy said in a low whisper. "Captain Skraark of the Free Wind," he announced. Reptilian skin covered a massive face. The nose protruded from a combined mouth and snout. His crest extended well above his head. The scale of the other ship was hard to discern from the viewscreen, but Dinos were usually over eight feet tall. Captain Skraark waved a scaly hand. The claws on his fingers extended for several inches and looked very sharp. "What is your status?" "See for yourself," Captain Vega replied. "Yes. Yes, we have," he replied. "We actually came in for salvage, then noticed a faint signal of active life support. How many are you?" "Twenty seven," she replied. "Two crew, the rest passenger. What do you seek?" she asked. "We offer the usual deal," he replied. "I've heard of your terms," she responded. "Well then," he went on. "If you agree to the deal, then find your volunteer." "I just want to be sure that my passengers will be safe." "Captain!" he exclaimed. "We are...free traders...but we have our honor. None of our species has ever reneged on this deal." "Screen off," Peggy announced. She swiveled her chair to face Captain Vega. "You can't be serious! I've heard Alliance soldiers talk about their...deal! Death here on the ship would be better." "I might choose that for myself," said Captain Vega. "And accept your choice as well. But there are twenty five other people counting on me." She pulled her clothing to make herself as formal as possible. "Screen on." Reluctantly, Peggy pressed the controls to reactivate the communication link. "Captain Skraark, I accept your offer," announced Marianne Vega stiffly.

May's Patron-funded episode (yes, I know it's late) is "Kentaurida" by Mason Hawthorne, narrated by Nobilis Reed. In the grey predawn the dense, ancient forest pressing right up to the edge of the road looms over George, as he picks his way along, careful not to turn an ankle in the deep ruts left by farmers carts and post wagons. He's heard that this forest is untouched since ancient times, the last virgin wild lands this side of the continent, powerfully haunted, according to the common folk, and a stronghold of the old gods. It is cold, and the stars glitter in the sky, the husk of the setting moon is all the light George has to find the marker he was told of. It is an old thing, standing as tall as a man, the carved stone weathered by the centuries. The head on top is still well formed, and Hermes' sly, gleeful smile beams from atop its square pillar. As George approaches he can make out, at the appropriate height, a carved penis standing at a jaunty angle from a stylised bush of pubic hair. He stops in front of it, and reaches out to touch the stone penis for good luck. Turning from the herm, he tightens the straps of his pack and fords his way into the forest. It is black under the cover of the trees, even the moon's feeble light lost, he strains to see the obstacles in his path, and more than once loses his footing on the slick leaf litter and uneven coils of roots. Soon, George is breathless with exertion, and sweating; his shirt clings to his skin. Clammy and chilled, he must pause for a moment to tug his collar away from his throat and adjust his pack. It is so quiet, even the birds are silent; there's not a sound aside from his laboured breathing and the crunch of dried leaves under his boots. George fits his fist against his side to ease the ache in his ribs, and a prickle crawls up the nape of his neck. What is that sense of hushed watchfulness that surrounds him? Why does it feel as though his every move is being scrutinised? George shakes himself off like a dog—isn't it silly to believe all those folk superstitions—he squares his shoulders and carries on, labouring up the slope. But then, he is here because he believes in the folk tales. Because they say that beyond the curses and malevolent spirits, there was the chance to gain a miraculous cure, or the power of divination, or a dozen other such boons. The cure is all he wants, some kind of treatment. If he has come all this way to find nothing, he thinks he may as well die.

Here is the annual event we hold at Balticon every year, plague or no plague. This year our madlibbers are Stephanie Burke, Valerie Griswold-Ford, Grig Larson and Charlie Brown.

This month's patron-funded story is "Arachne" by Emily L. Byrne, read by Jo Bennett.

This is the second (and final) half of "Sauce for the Gander" written by Nobilis Reed and narrated by Vivienne Ferrari. Find my interview with Leela Sinha on the PowerPivot podcast Listen to Monster Whisperer on Audible

This story was commissioned by a Patreon supporter who generously signed up at the $100 level. It's a story set in the Monster Whisperer universe, narrated by Vivienne Ferrari.

Happy 13th birthday! This podcast is now a teenager. This month's story is "Salt Water" by Alexander Whitman, narrated by Nobilis Reed.

Happy 13th birthday! This podcast is now a teenager. This month's story is "Salt Water" by Alexander Whitman, narrated by Nobilis Reed.

This month's patron-sponsored story is "Bell House Invitation" by M. Christian, narrated by Michael Robbins. This is an excerpt from "Hard Drive: The Best Sci Fi Erotica of M. Christian"

This month's patron-funded story is a straight erotic horror tale by Gustavo Bondoni. The narrator is Nobilis Reed. Patrons are now receiving episodes of a popular public domain planetary romance that has been "de-expurgated" by Nobilis Reed. Join up at patreon.com/nobilis to hear at least two chapters a month.

This month's Patron-funded story is "A Dance of Queens" by Sacchi Green, narrated by Nikki Delgado. After the story, there's an excerpt from a new podcast, "Fuck Humans"

This is the companion piece to last month's sandbox tradeoff. In this one, I'm presenting a story I wrote in the universe of Julie Cox's "Capricious" novel. Buy the Capricious ebook Get the Capricious audiobook

This month's patron-funded story is "Spawning Grounds" by Julie Cox, narrated by Nikki Delgado. I shifted my weight back and forth and stretched my wings, fidgeting, rolling them in their sockets. I still wasn't used to them; they were new, only a few months old. The feathers had finally come in all the way, the central shafts opening like strange mottled brown blossoms. They were lighter than they looked, but I still had trouble with my balance. I knocked into things. These days, I was far more graceful in the air. "Angela, you gotta relax," Ester said as she tightened the straps of my backpack. "You're going to be alright. Some tentacle monsters are scary, but Celpin are as docile as they come." I nodded. I knew that better than she did; I was the park ranger, after all. She might study them in the lab, but I watched them day after day. I'd watched their numbers dwindle, falling as the birds they cooperated with for spawning disappeared along with so many other species on the planet. Climate change was a bitch. At least this time it was because of a volcanic event, and wasn't our species mucking about that did it. "You'll be ok," she said again, but I think she was talking more to herself than to me. "I'm ready," I said. "I'll be waiting when you get back." She wasn't looking at me. She was nervous and didn't want me to see it. "Break a leg." I stepped to the edge of the ledge, opened my wings, and jumped.

This month's patron-sponsored story is "Arvent4299" by R. Tusker, read by Violet Jade. "Arvent4299. That's my access password," said N-04, her synthesized voice not betraying a hint of nervousness. Her client nearly spat out his drink in response, not expecting a serious answer to his question. "Wait, hang on. That's a joke, right? You're joking." Her client chuckled, setting his stein on the bar counter. "Let me guess. I try to hack you with that password and it'll blow up my tablet. Or it's actually your kill code and you'll go 'Destroy All Humans' on me." N-04 frowned, the glare of her faintly glowing eyes cutting through the murkiness of the lounge. "The assumption that all synths have a kill code has caused an undue amount of stress for human-synth relations. I gave you my access password, and I will revoke it if you continue to act so foolishly. Or if you're not bold enough to use it." N-04 sat and watched the TV as the client paused and tentatively pulled out his tablet. Porn was on. There was never anything but porn on in these hookup lounges. All things considered, this side gig could have been worse. The pay was decent, and the benefits were amazing, with free access to a human-synth relations agent, subsidies for maintenance costs, and access to a server for mind-uploading. All you had to do is bend over and let corporate perverts with more money than charm have their way with you. Technically, all a client paid for was your company for the evening, but the more of yourself you gave up, the better the payout, as long as client uses what you offer. Most synths stick to the baseline, some light conversation and maybe a handie, but N-04 had aspirations, and aspirations need more than 14 credits an hour. "Holy shit," her date whispered, breaking her line of thought. "I'm in." "Took you long enough. You have access to most of my operating system. You can change whatever you wish, do whatever suits what fantasies lie in that little head of yours. As long as you don't break the the terms of the contract you signed with Escortcorp. So nothing against the law, no messing up my clothing, and no denting my chassis." The client looked back and forth between N-04 and his tablet, his bemusement clear on his face. "Why?" he finally sputtered out. "Because it's either this, cancelling this appointment or listening to you blather on about fantasy football all night. This is the only route that actually seems fun." She smiled cattily. These sort of nights always went better when she poked fun at the client. Always getting mad, going overboard and getting hit with a massive bill. "So go on. Dominate me. Impress me." The client scowled and began to frantically peck away at his tablet, his bemusement turning into indignation. After a few moments, N-04's arm locked at the elbow and jerked roughly upwards, then downwards. "So, this is your fetish, huh?" she quipped. "You must like your handjobs super intense." "Do you mind?" he growled. "I'm testing the movement controls." "If it took you that long to pull that off, I should probably go home. By the time you figure out how to really fuck me up, it'll be--" N-04 was cut off as the client, roughly controlling one limb at a time, managed to force her body off of the bar stool and stand it up. She sneered at him as he locked her into a pseudo T-pose and rotated her. Leering at the hot pink minidress and nylons - the standard uniform for greeters at her actual job- and the curvy body of metal, plastic and synthflesh that lay beneath. "You done twirling me around like a Barbie?" she sniped. The client grinned and pressed a few buttons. Slowly, N-04 bent over the bar, her dress riding up her hips until the bottom of her underwear, a pink thong, came into view. He brushed his hand against her ass tentatively and a shock ran through her body.

This is "Having Her for Tea" a straight BDSM story by Harley Easton, narrated by Terry of the Smut Podcast. This episode is sponsored by the generous patronage of Nobilis Erotica listeners.

This is the "Dirty Mad Libs" panel we did at Balticon 53, featuring the prose-distorting skills of Laura "Spence" Nicole, Starla Huchton, and Stephanie Burke. If you've got the Nobilis Erotica Podcast App on your phone, look in the "Extras" section for the unedited version in all its two hour glory. This includes all of the calling out of parts of speech, responses from the audience, and of course the Stupid Viking Drinking Game.

This month's patron-supported episode is a female solo-ish story by T R Mortenson, narrated by Louise Cooksey. The Nobilis Erotica Patreon Campaign is SOOO close to the $150 mark we can taste it! Will you be the patron who takes us over the top?

This month's patron-sponsored story is "Right Where I Want You" a superhero femdom story by Brantwijn Serrah, narrated by Nobilis Reed. The Nobilis Erotica Patreon campaign is TANTALIZINGLY close to the $150 mark where I'll be able to afford to pay authors $50 per story.

This lesbian vampire story was written by Michael M Jones and is read for us by Vivienne Ferrari. This episode was brought to you by the generous patronage of Nobilis Erotica listeners.

This month's Literotica-sponsored episode is "Quality Assurance" by Selbryth Lannigan, narrated by Nobilis Reed. Listen through to the end for a special announcement!

This episode is sponsored by Literotica. "Equinox" was written by Brantwijn Serrah and is read for us here by Scottie Calif. If you like Scottie's voice, you can hear her narrate "Freespire Nights" on Audible. Listen through to the end for a short promo for the Smut Podcast.

The Patreon funded story for February is "The Chemical Trace of Amour in The Solar Winds, Like Lilacs on a Desert Breeze" by Roger Leatherwood. It's read by Nobilis Reed. We thought the aliens would come to visit us one day. That we wouldn't be the ones to go out into space and find them. Because we never had the resources to do true, extensive interplanetary travel. The government was forever stuck in domestic policies and snafus, by which I mean earth-bound. Politics and international tensions prevented all but a few face-saving and performative probes from leaving our atmosphere to orbit, possibly land on foreign objects and other planets as some grand statement of man's supposed legacy to conquer the universe. Or at least, the closest parsec of it. But even then, our satellites and probes would dig in the dust of Saturn's moons and find rhodium. Or gold. Or liquified krypton. Which would stop all attempts at further exploration and turn the exercise into how to best mine, transport and exploit the new motherlodes. So when the aliens finally presented themselves, making themselves visible after, what they claimed were months of observation beforehand, it was expected, obvious and in a way a relief for the officials in our command office. Particularly Capt. Lightheart. He had an aggressive idea the aliens would be militaristic and come in hard and without warning. Lightheart, a fellow more misnamed than anyone I'd ever met, kept insisting we wouldn't be ready to take on the aliens, however much warning and how docile, their sudden appearances might be. Lightheart had access to high-level surveillance information Bridgette and I didn't have. Ominous radio signals, disturbances in the solar flare patterns, strange bogies sighted in formations over the beaches of Bermuda and Cancun, avoiding scrambled Air Force jets. Above our pay grade. But Bridgette had a different idea of the aliens. That if they had spent all the energy and time to find us in the solar system, and to come visit us, their intent wouldn't be simply to destroy us. It would be to understand us. Make friends. Maybe teach us high science concepts. My view, well, I thought the likelihood of some other species visiting Earth was extremely unlikely. Even though I worked at the Pan-US Extraterrestrial Surveillance Service. I was the press liaison, so I took every bit of news with a grain of salt. Never thought a story too good to be true ever was. The reason why I was here, at PUSESS where the existence of aliens was the entire point of the organization, was I think I was always attracted to smart girls, and girls like Bridgette, brainy and able to spout equations as easily as recipes for mixed tropical drinks. Those were the kinds of girls who hung around PUSESS. Post-grad docs who loved to dream, read science-fiction and wool-gather around a world in which women were in charge. Turns out my prediction was much less accurate than Bridgette's, who expected world peace, and Lightheart's, who expected total domination. The truth was a little of both.

This month's Patreon-funded story is "The Long Night of Tanya McCray" by Michael M. Jones. It's narrated by Louise Cooksey, who is also the narrator for "Incursion at Gene Bunker Four" I was lost. My guidebook's maps were either out of date or outright fabrications, my smartphone's GPS claimed I was somewhere in the Atlantic before running out of power, and every set of directions I'd begged from passersby had led me further into the labyrinthine neighborhood of Puxhill known as the Gaslight District. Now, with night falling, the antique lamps which gave the area its name flickered to life, casting mocking shadows against uncaring brick walls and dark windows. I stood on the corner of two nameless streets--one little more than an alley--and threw up my hands in frustration. My excursion had started well enough earlier. The Gaslight District had evolved out of Puxhill's original settlement some centuries past, a chaotic tangle of narrow streets, scenic courtyards, and old buildings. It was a cultural melting pot, a unique blend of backgrounds and beliefs. During the day, you could find treasures and wonders in its tiny groceries, bookstores, and curio shops. Where it bordered the normal parts of the city, like Caravan Street or Tuesday University, you could find popular hangouts and hotspots. My mistake had been in venturing too far off the beaten path. Camera in hand, I went searching for new and interesting shots, not heeding those who said it would be a bad idea. "Tanya," I told myself, "this is all well and good, but standing here isn't helping. Puxhill Through The Lens won't get finished if you vanish, never to be seen again." I squared my shoulders, pretended I'd given myself a really good pep talk, and picked a direction. Hopefully, I'd find somewhere still open, where I could get proper directions or use the phone. For all of its many tiny nameless streets, the Gaslight District was still a finite area in a much larger city. Several blocks later, I wasn't so sure. Twilight had fallen, and I hadn't seen a single other person in ages. I pulled my denim jacket close as a chill ran through the air. All I saw were closed doors, dark windows, and capriciously dancing shadows. The silence broke. Raised voices. Harsh laughter. A pained cry punctuated by a soft thud. Jingling chains and scuffed movements. Common sense told me to head away from what sounded like certain trouble; other instincts urged me around the corner, where certain trouble was already in progress.

This is the first chapter of "Monster Whisperer Second Class" the sequel to Monster Whisperer. The remaining chapters will be exclusive to the Patreon campaign. If you want to go back and catch up from the beginning: Get Monster Whisperer on Amazon Get Monster Whisperer on Audible Get Monster Whisperer on iTunes

This episode of Nobilis Erotica is sponsored by Literotica, the world's most popular online community of self published erotica authors and readers for over 20 years. "Paper Doll" was written by D. Mark Alderton, and is narrated here by Nobilis Reed. D. Mark Alderton has been published by Circlet Press, and was co-editor of the recursive collection, "Like a Circlet Editor." In another life he writes for mainstream publications and is the author of several books of fiction and non-fiction. Most of his family and friends would be quite surprised. "I was in mid-fuck and I was bored. Not surprising. People think testing and refining 'mates is a dream job. Right? All it is, in most people's minds, is spending every day having sex with partners designed to be perfect, from their vat-grown bodies to the actual people running the simulacra. Not everyone can do this, of course. You have to be able to "read" both the 'mate and the puppetmaster. The physical signs are obvious: Cardio. Heightened respiration. Flushed skin. Copious lubrication. And, naturally, physical responsiveness. Our clients don't simply want to go through the motions. They could do that without our help. They want to feel it as an authentic experience. I suppose I'm fortunate in that I have the appropriate "talent" for the job. I can not only check off the physical signs. I can read the mental ones. Is the 'mate making an effort to connect? Since I'm in her mind, I can tell. Is the puppetmaster seeing that she is in the moment, so to speak? The good ones – and I've worked with the best – make you forget this is work for hire. For the half hour or hour that you're together, she not only has eyes only for you, but is becoming increasingly aroused by what you do, and makes sure to let you know it. This is sex taken to the level of perfection. "Better than the real thing" the ads say. It's being with a 'mate whose goal is not only your pleasure but making sure you know that your ministrations are beyond compare. It's brilliant, really. By making both sides of the physical act flow back to the customer, satisfaction is guaranteed. We run the alphabet soup of every possible sexual orientation and proclivity, although my specialty is within the range of male/female combinations. I don't know if the men and women who test the male 'mates experience it in quite the same way but then, as you might imagine, this isn't the sort of job where we hang out in the coffee room and compare notes. So, we'd been going at it for a bit. This 'mate was brunette, a tad plump in the current fashion which is to say in all the right places. She was on her back, her legs wrapped around mine, pulling me into her core. Her nails gently scraped my back and the nape of my neck. Her hot breath was at my right ear as she hissed, "Don't stop! Don't stop." I could feel her puppetmaster, Ilene, graze my thoughts, looking for clues as to what would really turn me on. We had not been paired before, so this was truly a test run for both of them."

This month's patron-funded story is a lesbian historical piece with a dash of genderfuckery titled "An Incident in Whitechapel" by Emily L Byrne. It's read for us by Joanna Bennett.

This month's Circlet press sponsored story is "The Leshi" by Raichyll Mae Fine, originally published in "Like a Sword: Erotic Tales of High Fantasy," edited by Cecilia Tan. It's narrated by Nobilis Reed.

This month's Circlet-sponsored story is "The Shock of the New" by D Mark Alderton. It originally appeared in "Like that Spark: Erotic Tales of New Relationships" edited by Marcy Harris, published by Circlet Press. The story is read for us by Erin Kazmark of the Melting Potcast.

Here we are! This is the conclusion of "The Dryad's Dream" by Marjorie Greene, read by Honey Rambler.

Part six of Marjorie Greene's "The Dryad's Dream" narrated by Honey Rambler. You can find the beginning of this serial back on episode 404.

This month's Circlet-sponsored story is "Performance Anxiety" by Reina Delacroix, originally published in "Like an Iron Fist: Dystopian Erotica" from Circlet Press. It's read by Nobilis Reed.

This week's episode is part 5 of "The Dryad's Dream" by Marjorie Greene, read by Honey Rambler. This episode is sponsored by the patronage of listeners like you!

This month's Circlet Press sponsored story is "The Bridge" by Shanna Germain, which originally appeared in "Only in the City: Erotic Tales of City Life" edited by Nico Vreeland and Cecilia Tan. It's read by Nobilis Reed.

This week, we have another fanfic! "Heavy Weapons and How to Use Them" was written by Armengard and is read for us by longtime fan of the podcast, Sola Balisane.

This week's episode is part 4 of "The Dryad's Dream" by Marjorie Greene, read by Honey Rambler. REMINDER: Marjorie Greene's stories contain non-consensual monster sex. This one more than usual. Listener discretion is advised. This episode is sponsored by the patronage of listeners like you!

The Circlet Press sponsored story for August is "Spider Bites" by Thomas S Roche, from the anthology "Like Crimson Droplets: Erotic Vampire Stories." It's read by Nobilis Reed. And if you like Circlet Press as much as I do, you'll be interested in the Circlet Press Patreon campaign.

And now for something completely different! Here is "Sexting for Wizards" - a HP fanfic featuring post-Hogwarts Ron and Hermione. Enjoy!

This month's Circlet Press sponsored story is "The Mistress and the Pea" by Cynthia Hamilton, from the anthology "Leather Ever After." It's read by A. F. Grappin, author of the "Deadly Studies" novella series, and cohost of the "Melting Potcast" short fiction podcast. Here are the audiobooks mentioned at the end of this podcast: Incursion at Gene Bunker Four Freespire Nights Monster Whisperer And if you don't have an Audible account, sign up using this link to get Monster Whisperer for free!

This week's episode is part 3 of "The Dryad's Dream" by Marjorie Greene, read by Honey Rambler. This episode is sponsored by the patronage of listeners like you!

This week we are presenting "Double: A Tale of Love and Engineering" by Nobilis Reed. This was originally published in "Like a Love Triangle" in 2014, and is reprinted in "Superlative Speculative Erotica," both from Circlet Press. It's read by the author. Use the code "superlative" on the Circlet Press website to get this title at 50% off "Superlative Speculative Erotica"