#trials-of-socrates

[azirafag]

yaaay hemlock knowledge for all! iirc those purple spots on poison hemlock specifically are sometimes called socrates’ blood, since he was executed with an infusion of it

very sexy to have that as part of what he’s remembered for. one can only dream of leaving behind such a rich legacy of ingesting poison and being very annoying

[ilovearcamediadiary]

372023 the trial and death of socrates // 399-367 bc (?) // plato definitely an interesting read if nothing else. but i have this weird bias against plato. i just feel like we wouldn't get along.

[thanatoseyes]

Kant? In my philosophy book? It's more likely than you'd think.

[in-sightpublishing]

Science always defeats religion

Publisher: In-Sight Publishing Publisher Founding: March 1, 2014 Web Domain: http://www.in-sightpublishing.com Location: Fort Langley, Township of Langley, British Columbia, Canada Journal: In-Sight: Independent Interview-Based Journal Journal Founding: August 2, 2012 Frequency: Three (3) Times Per Year Review Status: Non-Peer-Reviewed Access: Electronic/Digital & Open Access Fees: None…

[deweybertolini]

Sitting at the Feet of a Giant

As you will hear in this PODCAST, first impressions are often lasting impressions. That being said, first impressions can be dead wrong. Thank you for listening, and for sharing this message!!! Please remember that depending upon your web browser and connection speed, it may take up to 60 seconds for this podcast to begin to play. God bless you richly as you listen.

[lazyarrogance]

[covenawhite66]

Martin Luther King Jr sat in his cell in April 1963, he composed his famous "Letter from Birmingham Jail."

MLK makes a remarkable reference to a philosopher who lived over two-thousand years before him:"Socrates felt that it was necessary to create a tension in the mind so that individuals could rise from the bondage of myths and half truths to the unfettered realm of creative analysis and objective appraisal."

Believing Socrates’ practising philosophy should not have landed him in jail, nor should King’s organising marches and sit-ins against racism. The effectiveness of their rebellion,

Far from being a work which has defended a moral responsibility to break the law, the Crito has been interpreted as clear evidence that Socrates supported an authoritarian political philosophy.

When Crito asked Socrates was not one to abandon this maxim when it came to more serious matters, even those of life and death: even if escape seems like the right option at a first glance, it’s important to think deeply about what justice really requires in this instance.

Upon this foundation, what does Socrates say? He states that one must abide by one’s agreements with the city even if injustice has been committed against them , that disobeying laws would destroy the city, and, even more remarkably, that one must act like an offspring and slave.

Instead of saving himself in the Apology by speaking sympathetically in court or offering a reasonable counter-proposal for his punishment, Socrates prefers to chastise his accusers for their ignorance, appealing to the knowledge of experts.

Socrates almost seems loyal to the authorities who sentenced him to death when he says it would be immoral to escape jail because one of its duty to the city. But, Socrates words in court actively disrespect the judges sentencing him to death. Socrates saying they rely on ignorant experts and not trying to beg for a lesser punishment. Possibly meaning he wanted to teach the Athens Citizens to question authority

[tagitables]

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[apolloanddaphnis]

Eddie Munson x Horror!Bimbo Reader 🦇 💕 Part One

Headcanons about Horror!Bimbo

Horror!Bimbo isn't Harrington rich but she isn't Munson poor, she's lower middle class. Her dad is very distant, he manages the grocery store in town. Her mother is a part time librarian, and is there for reader as much as she can be.

She has an older sister who is studying pre med at The University of Chicago, they were once close but her sister became snobby once she started living in Chicago and only visits on holidays now. She thinks reader is stupid and hopeless with no future.

Horror!Bimbo!Reader is 18, a senior while Eddie is 20.

Horror!Bimbo!Reader has a white German Shepherd called Pyewacket.

Pyewacket hates everybody except for reader, she rescued him from a mean neighbor who would chain him up as a puppy. They've been thick as thieves ever since.

Pyewacket doesn't even let her parents into her room without some growling and snarling.

Horror!Bimbo!Reader also has a white rat called Socrates who often rests on her chest while she watches movies.

Pyewacket was the name of a famous witch cat in the Salem Witch Trials and a familiar in the 50s film Bell, Book, and Candles. AND Socrates was the name of Willard's white rat in Willard(1971).

Horror!Bimbo!Reader has a big oral fixation, she's constantly chewing her Extra! Refreshing bubble gum, or sucking on heart shaped lollipops that she hoards a bunch of from Valentine's Day that last her throughout the year.

It drives poor Eddie insane watching her mouth like that.

And she has such a distracting mouth, especially with all her lip gloss and lip liner defined lipstick painted lips.

And she's a big lip biter too.

He has spent many a time jacking off to the thought of those lips wrapped around him. With her shirt bunched up above her perky tits that never seemed to wear a bra for some reason.

And her plush ass that was alwayss adorn with a thong that he could see under very short skirts when she would bend over, her pussy lips puffier than the average girl and would be straining against the lace or satin of her thong, a lot of the time not completely covered.

Eddie has shamefully bust in his jeans at the sight at least twice.

And when she wears her obscenely tight jeans, her whale tail of her thong would peak out from the top of the high waist cut somehow, and you could easily see the outline of her thick vagina through the crotch of the jeans.

And almost always you could see the nipples of her bouncing tits through her shirts.

She tortured poor Eddie, especially when she would always smile so sweetly at him through the hall with a breathy Daryl Hannah "Hi Eddie" that she always managed to sound suggestive.

And in class (they have English and Pre-Calc together) , she always managed to sit in front of him, leaning forward so he could see her whale tail, or her juicy pouty lips when she'd ask to borrow a pencil that she would chew on and suck on before giving it back to him. (He is a little ashamed to admit he saves a whole collection of those at home). He'd also get high off her succulent smells. Like her strawberry shampoo, rosewater body lotion, her apricot hand cream, either baby powder and vanilla body mists or spicy and fruity Poison by Dior that he knew she would shoplift from the department store at Starcourt.

Our little bimbo has sticky fingers. Her family isn't the richest and she is such a seagull. Sees something shiny, might be a little too costly, like expensive lingerie or luxurious perfumes and she HAS to have it. Flirting with sales men and women and stealthily swiping the goods.

Eddie remembers the day he first met reader.

First day of her senior year, she walks into English in an outfit he knew she would get dress coded for, faded blue daisy dukes that squeezed the life of her dump truck ass and accentuated the lewd shape of her cunt. A red cropped tank top that was a little loose with a strap falling off her summer-loved shoulder, but tight around her bouncing unbound breasts. She had on white socks bunched from black doc like combat boots, and her hair up in a messy but very pretty high half pony half bun she had pinned up on top of her head, tendrils and loks framing her face and sticking to the back of her neck for it was an Indiana September. Her bangs framing her face and silver gold hoop earrings adorned her ears, red lipstick daringly painted her lips and black self manicured nails adorned her hands. She looked like a centerfold and he couldn't take his eyes off of her, neither could the other guys.

He knew it wasn't just lust however when she complimented his Black Sabbath t-shirt and then commented how she loves Ozzy solo work and rambled about an alter she once had to honor Randy Rhoads.

No, it was safe to say Eddie fell in love with her after that.

She was never ashamed to be seen talking to him. Sure she wasn't miss popular, the boys only talked to her because of her bimbo appearance but they all saw her as a witchy slut. They found her creepy but hot because she loves horror films so very much.

She's a little bit of an airhead, things tend to fly over her head, but she does love reading surprisingly. She has been scolded by teachers countless of times for reading in class ironically, and sometimes ditched to read in the library because the librarians adore her.

She likes to get lost in books and be in another world because she felt lonely in the real one.

Reader doesn't have friends, she comes off odd.

She giggles too much and blinks rapidly and shakes her head when she doest get things which is often.

Her mom says she doesn't process things like everyone else but that doesn't mean she's dumb.

She stares a lot and kind of looks like she has no thought in her head as she floats on through but she is actually lost in her own fantasies constantly through the day.

Eddie finds it adorable, and when people make fun of her for her oddities and aloofness he will do something outrageous to take the attention off of her, to protect her.

He saw she had nowhere to sit at lunch and invited her to his table, he realized despite being so beautiful she's the loneliest person in school.

She was so honored to be invited having a crush on him since freshman year. How could she not? He looks like the boys on her wall. Like Hawkins own personal rock star.

She became of Hellfire and with DnD she had him explain it like twenty times. Some of his friends may have groaned when she said 'wait' for the twelfth time, but we're silenced by theor DM's lethal glare.

She loved creating characters so much and had fun creating hers The Enchantress.

Reader always made food for the club which made them take to her easily.

She loves to cook and bake, she could be in her own world like when she would read or watch movies all day.

Her favorite book is Flowers in the Attic, and her favorite movies are The Company of Wolves, Slumber Party Massacre, and The Wicker Man. She will watch any horror film.

Her favorite colors to wear a red, pink, occasionally black.

[ultradespairsara]

the way he acts in class trials.... why does he think he's socrates I can't stand him

[yoga-onion]

Democracy

Democracy is somewhat like four wolves and a sheep discussing and deciding on a dinner menu.

The four wolves decide by majority vote: 'Tonight, we shall have delicious mutton'. Poor sheep being eaten.

The execution of Socrates in ancient Greece was also the result of a trial by majority vote.

Decisions made by the principle of majority rule can be right or wrong.

Whichever way things are decided, do not assume that it is 100% justice.

There is no such thing as 100% justice in the world. Well, maybe 70 per cent, 80 per cent at most...

A quote from Japanese religious scholar Hiro Sachiya, who says that even if we have no choice but to follow rules and manners, we should judge the dividing line between right and wrong in our own hearts.

- Hiro Sachiya (b. 27 July 1936 - d. 7 April 2022) was a Japanese religious critic and author of numerous commentaries for the general public.

民主主義

民主主義というものは、4匹の狼と1匹の羊が夕食のメニューを相談して決めるようなものだ。

4匹の狼は多数決でもって「今夜は、おいしいマトンを食べることにしよう」と決める。食べられる羊はかわいそうである。

古代ギリシャのソクラテスを死刑にしたのも、多数決による裁判の結果であった。

多数決原理によって決められた決議は、それが正しいこともあれば、まちがっている場合もある。

物事がいずれに決まったにせよ、それが100％の正義だと思わないことだ。

世の中には100％の正義などありえない。まあ70％か、せいぜい80％くらいか…

決まりやマナーに止むを得ず従うことがあるとしても、善悪の仕切りは自分の心の中で判断しよう、という日本の宗教家、ひろさちや氏の引用。

- ひろさちや（1936年 7月27日 - 2022年 4月7日）は、日本の宗教評論家であり、多数の一般向けの解説書を執筆。

[teratocore]

you ever think about how the Socrates that Bill and Ted met on their journey was clearly an older man and how he died in his seventies meaning that this Socrates met these two boys that showed him this magnificent future and then was likely not long after returning to his own time put to trial by the Athenian government shortly after the domination of the new oligarchy over the previous democracy for corrupting the youth and against a jury of five hundred men he refused to run or use an emotional defense in that he was married with young children and instead faced the jury of his former peers and spoke what Aristotle later recorded in Apology, that there was no one he would rather be than himself, and that history would not look kindly on them for pronouncing his death. because i do.

[my-my-my]

Do you have some meta hcs on Aizen?

Ugh yes, I love me some meta HCs!

The way Aizen ruled Las Noches would be similar to how he would rule once he became the Soul King. Beings would be given rankings based on their strengths, but it was still equitable (i.e. The Espada were ranked, but they had their own "kingdom" that were fairly equal in size/capacity between each of them).

I think he did this because he hates the concept of the Great Noble Families that reside in Soul Society. I think he's someone who despises nepotism, and the Great Noble Families are living proof that nepotism rules.

Aizen misses teaching. I saw some people remark that maybe "he likes the sound of his own voice", but I disagree. I'm of the opinion he liked imparting knowledge, and he wanted to get more students to critically think about Soul Society. I don't think he met many students in this regard though, because a lot of them fawned over him for superficial reasons.

I'm putting the rest behind a cut because it'll get too long otherwise!

In a way, the way Aizen wanted to speak to Ichigo, and just Aizen's rebelling/criticisms of Soul Society, remind me a lot of Socrates. There was even this whole thing with Socrates and "corrupting the youth" that he was charged with. Shunsui and Urahara didn't want Aizen to speak to Ichigo at the end, and I like to believe it's because they knew Aizen would tell Ichigo about the corruption Soul Society was built upon. Can't have the hero learn that he was working for a morally corrupt institution, can we? 🙃

Going back to the Trial of Socrates and Aizen's own trajectory, there are some similarities:

They both committed "blasphemy" (Socrates didn't believe in the Greek gods, Aizen disregards the Soul King).

They led their "followers"/"students" to question the basis of their society (corruption of the youth). It's good to note that Aizen wasn't totally successful with this, only Tosen and the Espada were followers, Gin was following Aizen for his own revenge.

Both of their trials were held with majority, if not all, male-led jurors (Aizen and Central 46) who decided their sentencing.

Both condemned to death (in Aizen's case, because he's immortal, 20,000 years but that might as well be death...)

Both could have escaped and dodge their punishments, but opted not to. Socrates was given an out, but took his death penalty. Aizen was temporarily exonerated for wartime service, and willingly went back to serve the remainder of his time.

In one of the novels (I think Spirits are Forever with You), Shinji and Momo talk about how Aizen probably wasn't lying to them as much as he wanted them to believe, and I would agree with them. Yeah, Aizen is a master manipulator, but he probably said a lot of "half truths" rather than full-blown lies. It's easier to manipulate someone when there's some semblance of proof to work from.

I'd like to think that at the end of Bleach, Aizen doesn't have the goal to become the Soul King anymore, but he does want change to happen in Soul Society. It's whole existence is based on a lie, and Aizen wants to see its reform. My own headcanon is that once that happens, I think Aizen would want to die - and since the hogyoku is tied to him, it would take away his immortality.

Again, a lot of people see Aizen as a narcissist, but I don't see it. Aizen wanted to be Soul King because he saw everyone else being unable to take a stand. He literally followed the quote "be the change you want to see in the world". He fully acknowledges that Yamamoto is stronger than him, Urahara is smarter than him, but those two refuse to do anything to fix the system. It's why he can acknowledge them, but can't respect them. Why have all that power and not try to change?

Last one lol: I'm of the opinion Aizen likes bullying Hitsugaya lmao. The way Aizen just reads him so easily and doesn't care to fuck around with him. A part of me thinks it stems from jealousy towards Hitsugaya for having people care for him. Another reason is that Aizen doesn't think Hitsugaya is the prodigy everyone else claims he is. Aizen just cuts him down in true "is this your MAN?!" fashion lol

Thanks for this ask!! I hope this is what you wanted in terms of "meta" lol

[flowerishness]

Conium maculatum (wild hemlock)

Meanwhile, down by the pier... 

This deadly poisonous, invasive member member of the carrot family will forever be remembered for its connection with the death of Socrates in 399 BC. The Greek philosopher willingly drank hemlock tea after being sentenced to death for refusing to reverence the official Greek gods and corrupting youth with his teachings. In a democratic but deeply religious Athens, not believing in the right gods was a capital offence. 

The trial of Socrates took place in the People's Court, located in the agora, the civic center of Athens. The jury consisted of 500 male citizens over the age of thirty, chosen by lot from among many volunteers. When the jury found him guilty, he was ordered to publicly deny his ideas or die. Socrates chose death. However, as a respected gentleman, the court gave him the right to pick the manner in which he wished to have his death sentence carried out and he chose hemlock tea. The details of his trial and death were recorded by his most famous pupil, Plato. 

[ynmnrmt]

You & Me & Rhea Makes Three: Chapter 9 (Finale)

rhea ripley x m!reader x m!reader's girlfriend

word count: 3,949

warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, themes of domination/submission, infidelity, rape fantasy, didacticism

a/n: Those who enjoyed the shameless metatextuality of the previous chapter will be happy to hear this chapter opens on an extended Socratic-style apology for RPF as a genre. Those who are just here for the sauce can safely skip to the first asterisk.

(The story so far: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight)

“No. I won’t condemn them for that. I can’t.”

You look around that sea of horrified faces, you feel how thin the ice is under you. You clear your throat.

“Obviously I sympathise with the impulse, I understand where anyone who wants to prosecute them is coming from. But it’s a situation where any possible cure is markedly worse than the disease. Not too long ago the laws against obscenity led us into absurd situations where – well, take Lady Chatterley’s Lover, for years that was only available as a heavily censored version, except if you went over to Europe, where you could get hold of an unexpurgated version quite easily. And then you had the farcical situation where people were smuggling books back and forth, which is the kind of thing you associate with a much older history, the great religious schisms, dangerous new kinds of Bible, etcetera.”

You breathe more steadily, it seems like the crowd do too, you’ve manoeuvred yourself back onto more abstracted ground.

“Crucially, even those kinds of barriers, which people did defeat quite easily, mean less than nothing in this information age. The big stumbling block in the Lady Chatterley days was, what, buying a ticket for the boat? Now getting hold of censored books is within the grasp of anyone with wi-fi. This, interestingly, was part of the Lady Chatterley trial in England, the prosecutors took the patronising tone that they weren’t so much looking to ban the book for their own benefit as they were for fear their wives or servants might get hold of it – that was their actual argument, and-”

You’re sweating. It’s a fun fact, it’s fun, it’s a fact, but you’re getting away from the point.

“A lot of people know that Lady Chatterley trial, less know that Japan also had a landmark obscenity hearing over the book. It’s from that legal precedent that we have Japan’s modern censorship laws, where pornography has to blur out the genitals. It’s a compromise, fine, but one that’s absurd on the face of it. So as we see, this kind of censorship both can’t be enforced, and manifests itself in profoundly stupid ways.”

You feel a bit steadier. Let’s bite the big one.

“If the members of the pop group Girls Aloud did encounter the fictional story in which they are raped, butchered, and eaten alive, naturally they’d be worried and upset, I certainly would be. Come to that, I didn’t wake up this morning wanting to defend such a thing. And if someone were to send such a work to them, then it’d be straight-out sexual harassment at the very least. But the mere existence of that story, depraved and poorly edited as it might be, cannot be a crime in and of itself. It can’t.”

It doesn’t clang into place the way you’d hoped, like a government of the people, by the people, and for the people. But when you see two of the figures in the crowd – one mousy, one Amazonian – rise from their table and start to clap, you feel the immaculate sense of what you can do for your country.

“Two minutes to rebut,” floats up from below.

“My worthy opponent,” says the guy on the opposite podium, “is perhaps not aware that the author of the vulgar story Girls Scream Aloud was tried on obscenity charges on the basis that children could easily access their work…” But you are aware. You know all too well that this was comprehensively disproved in court, and what’s more, you can already feel the head of steam you’ll build up over it, that children have always sought out works full of sex and violence, that this can’t be laid at the feet of the author, that you yourself read Nabokov’s Lolita at around twelve and while you found it fairly unsettling that would be a pretty poor reason to disinter the late Russian and drag him into court.

*

Rhea gets you under your arms and whirls you three times around through the air, so you’re dizzy when she kisses you. When she sets you down you nearly fall over and it makes her giggle. “Well done,” she tells you with bedroom eyes.

“Yeah, I – we’re both really proud of you,” says Jen, God, she hardly even meets your gaze, so you’re the one to give her a kiss.

“I’m just glad they didn’t want me to defend Holocaust deniers,” you say, slightly breathless, though that’s mainly from what Rhea’s just done to you. “I mean, I could have done it, I could have argued that censoring them just gives them an allure, but-”

“Hmm, you’re right, maybe they have a point,” Rhea bobs her head about, then rests it on yours and holds you. You don’t want to, but you laugh, quite a lot.

“Don’t you, sort of, have feelings about this stuff?” Jen asks tentatively. “You told me about how you sometimes get fanfiction of, well, you.” It makes you freeze, knowing you have unthinkingly committed a grotesque faux pas against the woman who has her solid arms wrapped around you and could snap you like a twig.

“That’s why you put in that caveat, wasn’t it?” Rhea asks you. “That when people actually send me that stuff it’s basically sexual harassment, but if it exists somewhere out there and I never know about it, then what’s the harm...God, I bet if you wrote some of that, it’d be really sexy.”

“I couldn’t do it if I knew you’d be reading it,” you say, as you relax into her grasp. Then, with your trophy for Dominance in Rhetoric in hand, you take your two girlfriends out to eat, still desperately guilty at having publicly defended a snuff fiction about a forgotten bubblegum-pop outfit, unable to shake the feeling another shoe’s about to drop.

But you get through a large expensive meal and it’s all fine. Rhea picks loose bits of rare steak out of her teeth with a fragment of bone. Jen had shovelled down her couscous bowl like a final meal, but now she’s sitting back in her chair, relaxed and almost happy.

“Back in a sec’,” says Rhea, her shadow rolls up over you and then she is gone.

“That was really,” Jen waves her hand about as she tries to pluck the right word out of the air, “I really thought, it was one of those where it said essentially what I’d thought but never really put together. If you know what I mean.”

“I mean, I’m glad you agree,” you laugh, it’s not funny but you do want her to agree.

“And,” thank God, she laughs a bit too, “a guy going to court over writing some dark fan fiction of a girly pop band just seems so, so insane. But I get what you mean, if it was writing that I was seriously offended by, yeah, maybe I’d feel differently. I probably would want to, to, for it to be against the law or something.”

“What’s wrong, Jen?” you say, because she’s turned completely, she can’t meet your eyes again.

“I’ve been having an affair,” she says, she looks at you with tears welling over her cheeks.

“I understand,” you say, probably too quickly, since it’s in the context of everything you and Rhea have done, and, yeah, made her watch too. Next to that you can’t really blame her.

“I want you to know,” she says, as she grabs desperately for a hold on your hand, “that it’s nothing you did wrong, that this is my fault, it’s something I’ve done wrong,” she’s collapsed across the table now, her forehead against your knuckles, you look around nervously and she lifts her head again, “and I still love you.”

“Look, I mean, I don’t know what it-” No, do you really want to know? “I realise it’s all been a bit, you know, sudden change lately, and,” you have no idea how to follow this up, but it’s then that Rhea’s silhouette crosses over you again.

“Hey, guys,” says Rhea with a regretful little sigh, not her usual cheerful tone at all. “So, did you tell him?”

Jen nods, her eyes screwed shut, a tear drops from her chin. Oh! Well, that’s alright then.

“Yeah,” Rhea nods at you. “I’m sorry. And I know she’s sorry.” She has a hand on both your backs, she draws you in, all one huddle across the table.

“I love you so much,” Jen sobs, her clutches work their way up your arm.

“Tell him how it happened.”

“That time when, when Rhea walked in on me masturbating in the shower, I begged her to get in with me. I begged her. And I knew it was wrong, I knew it was a betrayal, but you were away, and, she’s so fucking hot.”

“Don’t gloat,” you chide Rhea, who still looks quite apologetic.

“Don’t be a dick,” she fires back, her fingers brush up the back of your head, her bicep and her shoulder squeeze against you. “I told her I would get in the shower with her, if I could get at you as well. I’m no home-wrecker.”

“She made me come so much,” Jen weeps. Now Rhea does smile a bit, it’s not quite a gloat, but you catch her with a look.

“Alright, alright. We’re apologising, aren’t we?”

“Jen’s apologised,” you say. “I haven’t heard anything like that out of you.”

“I’m very very sorry,” Rhea’s words warm your face, “that I made your girlfriend come hard in the shower.”

“Good. Alright then,” you’ve hardly even closed your mouth by the time that you kiss Rhea, and you feel Jen paw at your face. When you break apart you turn to her, “Jen, honestly, this is a relief. This whole time I’ve been killing myself worrying you hate this.”

“I really think you’re still dealing with a lot of very sexist attitudes,” Rhea muses calmly. “Like, your insistence on thinking that your pretty girlfriend just wants, I don’t know, a wedding and a suburban house and two point five kids, rather than rough sex with both her boyfriend and her girlfriend.”

After a moment, you say, “Yes, perhaps you’re right. Jen, I’m sorry if you ever felt I was anything less than supportive of this.”

Jen sniffs out the last few tears. “I’m sorry too,” she says, she still sounds wretched. You pull her closer in and kiss her forehead, as tenderly as you can.

“That’s why we thought we should get you caged,” Rhea continues, “to teach you a lesson. And I think we should keep you that way. Ah, don’t look like that.” Her grin turns manic and her voice lowers when she confides in you “I promise it won’t stay on too much.”

“You’re sure you’re okay with this?” you ask Jen, still holding her, not quite protectively but not unguardedly either.

“I was going to ask you that,” Jen laughs through her tears. “I mean, sometimes, I acted like I wasn’t, I was worried you’d suspect something. That’s, um, that’s why I did the thing with the knife.”

It’d be an alarming sentence at the best of times, but still, it makes you breathe a sigh of relief you hadn’t been holding. “So, that was, you were sort of acting out a little play for me to follow? Like the kayfabe?”

“Exactly,” Rhea credits you. “To be honest, the knife was a bit of ad-lib, but God, it got my blood pumping. This girl…” You feel her pull you closer, too, as she gives Jen a squeeze.

“I had, I thought you got that,” Jen confesses to you, “with all my but Rhea, what are you doing.” Her words turn sultry and suggestive then, you feel yourself grin like an idiot as the relief she really is alright, and enjoying this even, continues to buoy you up inside.

“I wish I’d thought of that,” you confess right back, “I mean, doing that too.”

“And see, you hadn’t wanted to that time because of what Jen might think,” Rhea explains, “but now you know it was okay all along.”

“Rhea,” you bring yourself to say, while you feel yourself melt into her body, “next time I ask you to stop, you’d better.”

“Of course I will,” she says, with the same gentle, sunny smile.

“That’s the other thing,” Jen comes in with her tiniest voice yet. “I also hoped you’d both help me fulfil my rape fantasy.”

*

“No, stop,” Jen purrs up at you, and just about holds in the laugh. You don’t, and on your next stroke you lean down and kiss her, and she puts her whole head into it. If she didn’t, if she wasn’t so obviously loving every second of it, you couldn’t bear it. You’ve got hold of her by her wrists, but that doesn’t really matter, because Rhea’s underneath her and has her in an implacable full-nelson. “I want you,” she lusts, “to take it out and then to stick it in again, because, that way it’ll be like, mmfh,” the little wriggle she does then is hardly even a physical movement, it’s more spiritual, but you feel it all the same.

You do as she asks, for a moment you just hold your cock and look down at them, at the very faint way Jen wrestles in Rhea’s grasp, these women you would do anything for.

“Squeeze me tighter,” she insists.

“I don’t want to break you,” Rhea teases, or pleads.

“You won’t,” Jen promises. So Rhea draws her up further, and as you put it in and make her wail you can feel the tension in her body, but somehow it’s not the kind of tension that resists you, instead it welcomes you in and threatens not to let you go. Her little body, those thick arms around it, you must be in a dream. But in that dream you would fuck them both, you would please them both, to make sure they both liked you too.

Jen wails like she’s been twisted around, for one awful moment it hits a note of distress. But then, as Rhea nuzzles into her neck, you hear it for the sigh of pleasure it is. Suddenly it’s not a cruel, sadistic stab motion you inflict upon her, you can feel yourself becoming one with her, and here you let go of her left wrist and clutch at Rhea’s iron shoulder, because you want so desperately for her to be part of this too.

You don’t quite all move as one, so as you fumble about, your hand ends up trapped between the two women you love. You’re in no hurry to move it, but you do, to touch Rhea’s face, at first just with your fingertips, but then your palm, you caress her properly, and she nuzzles into that, too. It makes you lose your rhythm, you flop down on top of Jen’s little body, feeling yourself press down on her, and her press up into you – but seconds before she looks at you and starts to complain you get going again, and her eyes flash with delight.

“Take it,” you tell her, “fucking take it,” it’s little more than something to say, ridiculous porn-star dialogue you’d never have thought of outside the heat of the moment. It works though, her eyes turn liquid and again she wails somewhere between pain and pleasure, she tries to break free of the way Rhea holds her but you all know she never, ever will.

The muscles in your neck tense, the blood thumps in your head, and with Rhea’s help and Rhea’s love you come directly inside your girlfriend. Your climax coincides with the last gasp of hers – so when you return to full consciousness, she is there for you in the afterglow. Her eyes flash at you, she smiles as if you had been gentle as velvet with her, and she whispers “I love you.”

Rhea shoves you both aside, as is her wont, and takes the big gulp of air you denied her. “God, you two are actually quite heavy,” she complains – before she props herself up a bit, arms folded back behind her head. “And I’d like to get off too, you know.”

The golden afterglow makes you sluggish for a moment. So by the time you dive in, Jen is already there with her face between Rhea’s legs, hungrily looking for any spot that will make her feel good. You settle for kissing around Rhea’s thigh, before she grabs you by the hair and pulls you up to look you in the eye.

“When do you think you’ll be ready to go again?” she asks, so sweetly, but by now you know, that light in her eyes, that belies the hunger.

“Oh! I, I’ll do my best,” you say limply, able to think only that she’d be ready right away. It’s an unfair comparison, but it’s the same results you get every time you compare yourself with her. Against her gorgeous sculpted torso, feeling the heat of her body, your cock flops, not even fully gone down yet, nowhere near going up again. You waver in her grasp, ready to collapse if she wasn’t there, “I can, I can help you get off in other ways,” you mean it, too, even if Jen’s face has still got Rhea’s vagina firmly occupied.

“I want to get fucked,” says Rhea, quite flatly, and you squirm in embarrassment that you cannot give her what she wants immediately. But then she smiles again, and with a little sing-song cadence adds “I know how to get you ready.”

The chill of desire you get when she says that is nothing compared to the chill of the metal on your balls as she pops them one after another through the chastity ring. Then there is the intense pleasure of her bending your still-half-erect cock about, to work that under the ring too, all of a sudden you think maybe you could go again. You collapse onto the bed, but immediately nuzzle up as close to her as you can, you thrust her hips to help her ease the cage over your cock. And then, when she looks at you with untrammelled delight and clicks the lock shut, then you get the first twinge of another erection.

“When it starts to hurt,” Rhea emphasises hurt like a French kiss, “we’ll know you’re ready again – ooh, Jen.” You feel her muscles move under you as she wriggles about with enjoyment.

“Uh huh,” comes your choked reply, your mouth pressed up against her shoulder, the cage somehow throttling your voice.

“But not a bad hurt, I wouldn’t want to do that to you, that wouldn’t be fun,” she specifies quite carefully. “I mean a kinky hurt.”

Jen pops her head up. “You said I was a shit girlfriend for doing th-” But without the slightest change of expression, Rhea rams Jen’s head back down between her legs. Jen produces a few satisfied “Hmm hmm hmm” sounds, you know these by now, the sound of smutty laughter muffled by Rhea’s thighs.

Rhea sits you up, lays her arms gently around your shoulders, and then with no force but immense power pulls you back in. First a little peck right on the lips, then a longer, deeper one, she nips your tongue with her teeth, you yelp – that’s muffled too – as you feel yourself swelling in the cage and the metal close in around you.

Her teeth release you, you do have the power in your limbs not to slither down her body and end up with your mouth on her breasts, but somehow that’s what happens. With all the talk of kinky hurt, that’s probably all the grounds you need to give her a little nip. But that’s not even what you want to do. With one of her arms around you, and the other keeping Jen in place, you kiss and suck on her tits as if you’re getting married to them and a priest’s told you to.

You can feel yourself filling up the cage completely now, feel the tip of it around you. But in spite of that bodily demand, you work your way back up Rhea’s chest, you smear your lips across the bottom of her neck, and she giggles to feel you land under her arm. There it is, the light sheen, the flavour and tang of the very slight exertion she’s suffered holding Jen in place for you. You scrub her remorselessly with your tongue, not wanting to miss one little bit.

While you love and mouth at that softer, more private skin, you feel her shift and go “Oh,” a low sexy intonation from the core of her being. Her chest heaves, she trembles which shakes you about too, and then comes the eruption, a long rattling cry of ecstasy. Part of you is tempted to pull away, to enjoy the look on her face, but you have latched on too firmly, and when she sweats out her climax you know you have made the right decision.

You straighten up, you finally take a breath – and so does Jen, a huge gasp for air when Rhea finally opens her legs and sets Jen free. For a moment she is slumped on the dampened sheets, and you go to her and check on her, help her up, genuinely worried she might have been squeezed too hard between Rhea’s thighs. But she leaps up to meet you, laughing merrily, then kisses you and lets you taste Rhea’s pleasure, all over her face.

“Mmh,” sighs Rhea, she settles down on the bed, gazing up at you both. “Look at you…” and the warmth of it fills your heart, before she blinks her eyes properly, focuses on you, and all business again asks “Are you ready yet?”

Jen grabs the cage, you feel her fingers through the bars and you yelp, she declares “It feels like it!” She cradles your balls, gives them a little squeeze, and asks them “Are these refilled for her?”, yes, there’s that heat of the moment filthy-talk again. You just manage one passionate kiss before Rhea’s got hold of your balls instead and pulls you over toward her.

“Well well,” Rhea muses, playing with the cage and your cock inside it, bouncing it on her hand. You’re hard enough by this point it doesn’t flop down but stays pointing painfully towards her – like she said, a kinky hurt. And she relishes it, she smirks, devours whatever expression’s on your face as she undoes the lock, she hadn’t even needed to take the key out after shutting it. She grips the cage, and pops it right off, you produce half a groan and half a gasp.

“I hope you fuck her real good,” Jen whispers, snuggled up to you from behind, she takes hold of your cock and points it directly at Rhea’s vagina, poking at her on your behalf. For a second you are nervous, you’re hard again but your erection doesn’t quite feel fully recovered. And hunched over Rhea’s big, lovely body you feel as inadequate as you ever have. But then Jen shoves you forward, with a trill of delight that Rhea echoes – and when you pump eagerly away, you can tell, she really does feel good too.

Rhea squeezes you with her legs, the way she did Jen’s face – the same face sticking to yours now – to hold you in place, inside of her, and you’re happy, and she’s happy too, and you’re all happy, more than you could ever even have wanted.

[emptyshellofanillusionwizard]

I'm working through some feelings around the frustrating process of medically transitioning

Citations are from The Trial and Death of Socrates and The Modern Prince