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. you're right. To be honest, I've been regretting it terribly. If I wasn't God, I'd be sure God was mad with me." Well Lord, it is possible for you to reverse it. All things are possible for you." Alright then, I'll do it." Very good, Lord." Amia snapped her fingers, and a piece of paper appeared, along with a pen. "I've taken the liberty of drawing up the paperwork. Simply sign here and the planet and its people will be returned to their proper places, with no memories of the torments they have endured."David was just about to sign the paper, when he was interrupted."David, what's going on?" The two of them turned to see Samantha, stood there in her dressing gown. "Who's this?" Good morning, my lady," Amia said to Samantha. She climbed off of David, and then bowed to her."Who the fuck are you?" I am the archangel Amia, my lady," she replied. "I serve your husband as his personal assistant." Very personal from the looks of things," Samantha said."Sam, I can explain!" David. They had kept amma on a table completely nude. Broju the old man who very much shorter than amma had his head rested on her chest using her right boob as a pillow while he played with her left tit.His dick was shoved deep in her pussy at the same time. Meanwhile, Raju, the bald tailor had her legs spread apart and pounding her asshole. And the third, Taran, the vegetable guy drilling inside her mouth as he rested his ass on her face. Meanwhile, my amma whose head was laid back was looking at me upside down as tears came out of her eyes and rolled down up her forehead.All the perverted crowd meanwhile threw money from the window cheering my amma’s name, begging to let them in. I could see the pain in her eyes but my hand continued to milk my cock desperately waiting for my turn to cum. It was bad and yet it felt so good.Although I cursed the perverts of the locality, I had started to enjoy seeing amma being teased. So how could I stop them from doing the same? “Tell me.” Arjun.
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“How romantic,” he answered. “Are we making a suicide pact?”“No,” she answered. “It’s what killed the Carthusian monks.”“They were poisoned?”“By the ink,” Maddie confirmed. “The final two pages of the manuscript show an increase in the level of cyanide in the ink.”“The monks copying manuscripts would ingest small amounts of ink each day as they touched their pens to their tongues when they wrote,” Keith said, reconstructing the scenario in his mind. He shuddered. “That sounds like a long slow death.”“The catalog also records the receipt of supplies for the scriptorium,” Maddie added. “The last delivery of ink came with a manuscript and request for two hand-written copies. The entries with cyanide in the ink cover about four years, right up until the last entry.”“Talk about a poison pen,” Keith said. “What was the manuscript?”“Something called ‘The Wisdom of Ptolemy,’ according to the record. There was a short description saying it was a treatise on Egyptian history and Ptolemy’s power.

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