My Wife's Hospitality, Part Six by Joe Doe

[imreadonly2]

Many thanks to Carl, for his amazing editing, talent, & assistance!

Harry LOVES his basketball, and went into a ten-minute discussion of whether the Magic was going to pursue Jordan Pool, whether they could lure him from the Golden State Warriors, and how much it might cost. I nodded along, all the while watching Margot, whose head was rhythmically bouncing back-and-forth like a bobblehead doll as the toothless, bald, unshaven bum fucked her mouth. The vagrant kept his fingers wrapped around her shiny blonde locks, controlling her, setting her pace. He might have been a homeless bum, but he was free, and she was not. He was a person, whereas she was an object for him to use.

Margot was on her knees, buck naked except for her slave collar, with her hands and elbows zip tied behind her back, which not only rendered her helpless but pushed her perfectly rounded tits forward on display. With the bum’s grubby old dick in her mouth, she was hardly in a position to register her outrage, even if her control collar hadn’t already robbed her of the power of speech. Although she had lost the power of to use her hands or speak, I could tell from the color of her face and the way her delicate little nose was wrinkling up that the bum’s powerful stench, an awful mix of body odor and urine that was getting to her.

In New York, Margot always refused to take the subway because of THAT smell, but as she was now a slave girl the subway and every bum who had ever peed into a gutter was as far above her as heaven was above earth. Indeed, in her current predicament I could smell my prissy wife’s “slave stench”, that aroused mix of sweat and pussy juice that was more pungent as any smell on an underground train.

Yes, that was the remarkable thing. Despite the fact that she was near puking, my slave hot wife was still squeezing her thighs together, relishing the utter submission of her total debasement and helplessness. I understood the paradox, for while I found the foul odor of the two of them quite disgusting – and if anything, Margot’s gaminess was even more pronounced than the bum – the sight of my priggish wife, slave naked, on her knees, and sucking off a smelly bum, made my own pecker rock hard.

“I think the question is whether he becomes a restricted free agent,” Harry opined. “And if he does, will the Warriors match?”

Margot’s wrists jerked against her zip ties, testing them. Whether it was instinctive or a genuine attempt to free herself from the rotten, throbbing sausage in her pretty mouth hardly mattered. The 50¢ cheap pink ties were designed to keep little slave girls like her in check and would ensure the kneeling slut would swallow anything that was put in her mouth.

While Harry, the bum, and myself were all a bit shaded, Margot was kneeling in the sun and sweating like a hog. Rivulets of sweat were running down her face, matting her hair, and running down the curve of her back. I had suggested that she not wear a deodorant or expensive $300 cologne to her grading, pointing out that it might save her a harsh scrub down if her grader became annoyed at her pretense. Between rubbing her thighs, straining at her cuffs, bopping her head like a jackhammer, and the blazing Orlando sun, my horny little athlete was giving herself quite the workout.

“Maybe she needs some water,” I said, looking down at her with sympathy.

Harry was unimpressed. “She’s got a nozzle in her mouth. If she wants a drink, she’ll have to earn it. Now, I think the shot clock is key. It changed the whole game, really…”

He was right. At the moment, the only power my control-freak wife had over her predicament was how sensuous of a job she did. Hearing his words spurred her on, and she went at her unsavory but assigned task with gusto. I could see her moving her tongue around her mouth vigorously, teasing and pleasing the old man’s cock. The teenagers at the taco stand would have squirted twice already under such stimulation, but as the bum she was servicing was quite old, she’d have to work hard to extract his precious seed.

And work hard she did. I knew all that tongue movement must really have been spreading his taste around in her mouth. But Margot had concluded that the only way she could get this horror to stop was by getting the old bum to come in her mouth.

“I think Simpson’s really known for his hook shot, whereas Jeffries made 39.4% on his two pointers.”

I knew Margot was listening to Harry’s basketball chatter, as at one point she looked at me and actually rolled her eyes. Harry was a great partner, but he loved to hear himself talk. It was good when we were in the cruiser, as he could make conversation and drive while I looked for trouble, but Margot hated having him over for dinner, as she found him “windy, and boring as shit.” The eye roll she gave me now was the same one she gave me at dinner. I knew that having to listen to Harry as she desperately struggled to get the bum to cum must have only added to her exasperation.

Her disdain for Harry, a fine man and a fine officer, both amused and disturbed me. Even in her lowly state, Margot hadn’t lost her judginess, and sense of superiority. You would think that blowing a bum in front of me would have knocked her off her perch, but her arrogance and attitude told me she still really needed to be taught a lesson.

I know she didn’t like having Harry’s dog Sniffer watching either. As a police slave hound, Sniffer was trained to keep slave girls in their place. Highly intelligent, and better at sensing emotions than a human, Sniffer would leave her be only so long as she was performing like a good little slave girl. But at the first sign of disobedience, Sniffer would bring her to heel.

The bum started to groan, and pulled her face in tighter. I knew it wouldn’t be long now.

“I think defense is more important than offense, except when offense is the key.”

Margot let out a muffled scream as at long last his hot jet stream finally spurted into her mouth. She gagged, and pulled her head off his dick, choking as the cum dribbled off his lips. Unfortunately for Margot, he wasn’t finished, and the last two spurts hit her directly in the face.

“My turn!” the second bum shouted, moving into position.

Margot, keeping her face toward the cement, pulled away. She shook her head, and worse, spit out some of the enormous load of bum scum, hitting Harry’s shiny black shoe!

Sniffer went berserk at this act of defiance, and lunged toward my terrified wife. She fell backwards, and I thought for sure the dog was going to grab her in her jaws before I could get between them, but Harry, bless him, yanked the leash back and ordered him to sit.

The dog, still growling, reluctantly obeyed, but his glare made it clear he was anxious to take a bite out of Margot’s luscious ass.

Harry was clearly shocked – no, FLABERGASTED, that I let a slave behave that way. He immediately took his slave prod off his belt. Margot, still voiceless, did managed to whimper in fear as he demonstrated his power by pressing the red button and causing the electricity, to arc between the two wicked metal spears on the tip. Instinctively, she disobeyed again by breaking position, and hiding behind my leg.

“I don’t know what fucking garage sale you got this skanky little bitch at,” Harry snapped. “But spitting anywhere NEAR an officer on the slave patrol is a whipping offense if ever there was one. Look, she even fucking peed on the floor!”

It was true. My poor little slave girl had been so frightened of Sniffer that she had actually made a mess on the floor. It was a small puddle, but its source was obvious, and she blushed as Harry pointed out her humiliating accident.

I looked down at my cowering wife, who was looking – and acting – more like a real slave girl with each passing moment.

Margot didn’t mean to spit on Harry’s shoe, or maybe she did. It didn’t really matter. The point is, she was ordered to suck off the other bum, and she didn’t. She was the one who wanted to play slave girl. And when slave girls disobeyed, they had to be punished.

Harry was genuinely pissed. Looking down at my wife, the bum scum drying rapidly on her face, I remembered the training programs Margot had setup at the hotel.

“It’s important to have structure and rules,” I said, echoing one of Margot’s countless work bromides. “It’s the ABC’s: Academic training, Boundaries, Conditioning, Discipline.”

Margot looked up at me, surprised to hear her own words. Her training program was quite rigorous, and was derisively referred to as “dog training” by her staff. The ALWAYS program trained employees to ALWAYS smile, ALWAYS keep their professional demeanor, and ALWAYS strive to please.

“Bad girl!” I scolded, jiggling her slave leash. “You know better than that. You’re never fully dressed unless you have a smile,” I said, reminding her of own axiom. “What’s the matter, don’t you don’t want to help the homeless?” I teased. “Now, do you want to obey, like a good little slave girl, or do you want to say hello to Harry?”

Margot, her face covered in bum scum, was clearly not in the mood to follow her own training regime. Indeed, hearing her own words thrown in her face seemed to only enrage her. She started to curse me, but it only came out as comical SQUEAKS, because of the collar’s devoicing powers. With her hands cinched behind her back, she made her intentions known in the only way she could, by mouthing “FUCK YOU” and then spitting on MY shoe!

Harry moved forward with the taser, but I held him back. My wife, sensing her triumph over him, gave me a wry little smile. Harry still hadn’t recognized her. Doubtlessly his eyes were on her tits, shaved pussy, and smoking hot body. But Margot knew I wasn’t going to expose her. She had called my bluff, and I lost. It was the same sly grin she gave me when she made me beg for sex, which was often, as my wife loved power games.

Or, as she often put it, “I’m the man of the house, because I got you by the balls.”

This time, Margot had badly miscalculated. She wasn’t an elitist professional woman bossing around her terrified staff, or a bitchy wife prick teasing her desperate husband in her bedroom, only to suggest he go jerk off in the bathroom. Used to being in charge, it was clear that my haughty wife still didn’t understand just how precarious her status really was. She was now just another naked, collared pleasure slut, kneeling in a slave market. I was the master who held her leash, and her fate, in my calloused cop hands.

“She needs to learn respect for the badge,” Harry said solemnly. He was right.

Or perhaps she was testing me, seeing how far I’d push it, seeing who would blink first. Margot’s smug grin made it clear she had won, or at least she thought she had.

Taking the taser out of Harry’s hand, I placed it under Margot’s chin, and slowly raised it and positioned her face until my naked, kneeling wife, her face covered with bum scum, was looking directly up at my former partner.

“Harry, you remember Margot, don’t you?”

Harry stared down at her for a good 10 seconds, his mind struggling to process the image. As is often the case, there was no love lost between Harry, my work wife, and my real wife. Behind her back, Harry had always referred to Margot as “The Princess,” because of her high opinion of herself.

“She’s pretty, Brian, but she’s got a mouth on her,” he’d often say. “I hope her motions are worth her notions.”

Now he was looking at that same mouth, with sperm dried on her luscious lips. I could tell that he recognized her, sort of. However, naked and kneeling, her hands cuffed behind her, his brain couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. It was the Hollister Hypothesis not in theory but in fact, as even though he SAW Margot naked in Slave Mart he couldn’t reconcile the notion of my imperious wife as naked slave pussy.

After a long pause, he finally spoke. “Fuck! Margot? Is that really you?”

Margot’s face quickly went from alabaster white to beet red as she tried to SQUEAK, SQUEAK, SQUEAK an explanation, or beg him not to tell anyone, or ask him to stop staring at her perfect tits, or whatever it was she was bleating about.

There is a vast chasm between playing slave girl and being a slave girl. Up until now, no one that she knew had recognized her, which allowed her to play the part of an anonymous Pleasure Slut. The fantasy was orders of magnitude different from what Harry was seeing, Margot actually AS a slave girl!

Squeak! Squeak! How silly she looked, on her knees, trying to explain everything away. This was too good to miss.

“How do I turn her voice on?” I said, reaching for the collar controller.

“Why on earth would you want to do that?” Harry said.

Looking down at Margot, Harry snapped. “SLAVE SPREAD!”

She didn’t respond, looking at first to me. I looked at her sternly and tapped the top of her head with the electric slave goad. But it wasn’t until Sniffer GROWLED that Margot obediently went into position, thrusting her tits out, lifting her chin, and spreading her legs to give Harry an unobstructed view of her slick, wet pussy.

“You shaved her,” he observed.

“She’s not a natural blonde,” I replied.

“You’re breaking my heart,” he said mockingly. “But you’re right, she’ll bring a better price smooth shaved, since she’s a chemical blonde. Nice pussy. It’ll bring a good chunk of change on the block. You’re smart to sell her.”

“I’m not selling her,” I explained. “We’re just getting her registered. It’s sort of a game.”

“Shit, she’s not registered?” Harry said. Sniffer growled again, and Margot, spread and open, whimpered and flinched. I wasn’t sure if the Sniffer understood what “not registered” meant, or if he was just responding to Harry’s tone, but regardless it was obvious that the dog was not pleased with the naked, kneeling slave girl.

“Not registered her is just STUPID. Stupid and risky. Hell, you’re a police officer, Brian. You know better than that. You know, since you’re getting her registered, you should at least get a price on her. We have a special this month, where the tag tail sale includes free training.”

“Seriously? It sounds like a great deal, but I don’t think she needs any training.”

“Oh, really?” Harry replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let’s see.”

Turning to Margot he pointed at the sperm splatter on his shoe. “You made a mess, slave girl. Clean that up.”

Margot looked at me. Sensing her lack of compliance, Sniffer BARKED at her, and she shrank back.

“See?” Harry said, “Sniffer knows. He has a sense about these things.”

I smiled down at her. “Maybe Sniffer is right. Maybe she DOES need slave training. Maybe you should let go of his leash.”

Margot always said you should never force anyone to do anything, but rather make them understand why it’s in their best interest to obey. The smile on my face made it clear what her options were – lick the bum scum off Harry’s police boot, or let Sniffer teach her. It was in her best interest to obey. Fast.

Margot lowered her head, extended her tongue, and began to dutifully lick Harry’s shiny black shoe. Seeing her submission, Sniffer wagged his tail.

“So tell me more about this awesome free training,” I said. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Harry explained. “Slave Mart knows that great training makes great slave girls. Remember that ABC stuff Margot developed for the hotel? Well, one of Margot’s former employees is actually in charge of training here, and they modified the program for the training of slave girls. It works like a charm.”

I actually laughed out loud. “You’re shitting me! Margot is going to be trained using her own ABC’s: Academic training, Boundaries, Conditioning, Discipline? How great is that?”

“Pretty great,” Harry agreed, grinning. “The physical training is pretty rigorous, sort of like the Marines. They break you down so they can build you up. Girls who go through it can double their block price, and sometimes go up a full grade.”

I let out a slow whistle to show I was clearly impressed. “Margot is super into physical fitness, and is uber competitive,” I said. “I’m sure she’d enjoy competing with the other girls.”

“Of course, she would,” Harry agreed. “Why not be the best? Isn’t that what she always said?”

Margot had finished with Harry’s shoe. Desperate to show she didn’t require the rigorous training, she had done a VERY thorough job, and had carefully tongue-polished Harry’s entire boot, not just the tip. Harry had even lifted up his foot, so she could use her tongue to clean up the mud and muck out of the tread. Having finished the left shoe, Margot started on the right.

“But she has to do the Tag Tail Sale to get the training, right?” I asked, knowing that Margot was processing every word that was spoken. “I mean, I actually have to put her on the block. Buck naked, in front of everyone. I mean anyone, ANYONE can see her, and bid on her, and buy her? Is that right?”

I was trying to sound like I was reluctant, but in truth I was enjoying watching my haughty wife trembled as she licked Harry’s boot.

“Yup!” Harry said. “That’s the glory of it. We get a lot of bidders at Slave Mart, and the overseas buyers who tune in online mean you’ll always get top dollar. There’s a lot of guys in Asia and Middle East and South America who will pay big bucks for successful American career women, just so they can humiliate them. Margot is going to bring you a fortune my friend, and better yet, you won’t have to put up with her shit no more.”

Having finished Harry’s boot, Margot looked up at me with pleading eyes. I tapped my toe impatiently, indicating that she should get to work on my boot, which she had also disrespected.

“I dunno, Harry,” I said, continuing the discussion as I enjoyed the sensation of her tongue on my sneaker. “Slave Mart is notorious for high pressure sales tactics. They had to pay some sort of big fine in Virginia for all the illegal shit they were doing.”

“Well, our friends in Virginia have gone all purple,” Harry said dismissively. “Florida is ruby red, and ayn’t NOTHING illegal here. The Governor has totally gutted the slave inspection office, so it’s the Wild West. No rules, no hassles, no problems. How can you break the rules in Florida, where there ayn’t no rules?”

“Makes sense,” I said. “But auctions are for slave pussy, right? I mean, we’re playing a game. It’s not like she’s really a Pleasure Slut.”

“Let’s get an expert opinion,” Harry suggested. “Sniffer, slave check!” he said, pointing at Margot.

Margot gasped as Sniffer calmly trotted behind her and stuck his cold wet nose directly against her crotch. After nuzzling her to get a good whiff, Sniffer stepped back, and raised his paw, indicating that Margot, was in fact a Pleasure Slut.

“99.99% accuracy, my friend,” Harry said. “Dogs ayn’t never wrong. Sniffer knows slave pussy when he smells it. But shit, I can smell her slave stink from here. Normally they take training out of the sales price, but you get to keep it all, my friend.”

“It does sound like a bargain,” I admitted.

“Speaking of bargains, have you thought about what sort of brand you might get on her ass?” Harry asked.

Margot whimpered, but kept licking.

“Not really,” I said. “Any suggestions?”

“Well, since she always gave us such an earful on the greatest President this country ever had, I was thinking a Republican elephant on one cheek, and MAGA on the other. Or maybe the state of Florida. That would be cute.”

Florida would be fun. Margot hated Florida and referred to all of us as “Gator trash.”

Harry was smiling as he looked down at her ass, which was sticking straight up in the air as he cleaned her boot. Margot, still devoiced, could only whimper and clench her butt cheeks in panic as we calmly discussed her branding.

Margot started to move onto my other boot, but I had other ideas. “Tell me, Margot, do you know which of your former employees runs the slave training program?”

Margot, looking a bit green, nodded.

“Let me guess: did you fire him because he wasn’t enough of a hard ass?”

Margot’s seasick expression answered my question. “Do you think I should give him a call, and tell him who his newest little slave girl is?”

Margot, shaking her head, looked up at me with pleading eyes. “You should be nicer to your employees, sweetie. Remember, the people you meet on your way up are the same ones you meet on your way back down. Now don’t forget about that other mess you made.”

Margot, puzzled, looked up at me. Grabbing her by the collar, I rubbed her nose in the little pool of piss she left on the dock.

“Ha! Great idea, Brian. Make her lick it up.”

“So do you want to clean it up, slave girl, or would you rather get a little training and go on the block?”

I smiled as Margot dutifully licked the piss off the floor.

Harry had another idea. “See how she’s trying to juice herself? Have her do it from the other side. That way she can rub her pussy against that stack of palettes. Give it a good polish.”

Margot stopped licking up her pee to look up at me with pleading eyes.

“You heard the officer, slave girl. Polish them palettes! NOW!”

Margot moved into position. The palettes, stacked about 10 foot in the air, were unpainted wood, and the corner she set about “polishing” was roughhewn particle board. She whimpered as she first did it, and as I watched her pussy lips separate and wrap around the sharp corner I was reminded a bit of the Spanish Donkey, the wooden “horse” that they made female prisoners ride in the inquisition, and was sometimes used to punish very naughty slave girls today.

Seeing how difficult it was, I nearly called it off. But my resourceful wife soon got the wood slick enough with her juices to make her “ride” manageable. Indeed, she quickly began to rub the boards with vigor, pressing back hard against the wood, which was fortunately heavy enough to serve as a fuck pole without budging. Even if she wouldn’t admit it to herself, being a slutty slavegirl clearly aroused her.

“Wow, look at her go!” Harry said. “Ride ‘em, cowgirl.”

Sniffer watched closely as Margot licked up the piss while riding the pallets. Satisfied that he would keep her on pace, I turned back to Harry.

“So how long would her training last?” I asked.

“That’s the best part. As long as it takes. Slave Mart wants to get the best price possible for her snatch, so they’re going to train her right up, and they won’t put her on the block until she’s ripe and ready to sell. Although she smells pretty ripe now.”

Harry and I shared a laugh as Margot blushed and whimpered. I knew part of Margot’s ABCD program was to keep employees going through training classes until she felt their performance met her exacting standards. Now her own relentless approach, administered by one of her own former employees, would be used to break her down.

Margot wouldn’t have the luxury of faking her way through a rough day, or even a rough weekend, of training. The only way out of slave training and Slave Mart would be by stepping onto the auction block, and the only way she could achieve that dubious goal would be by perfecting her block routine and focusing every fiber of her being on being the most salable Pleasure Slut she could be.

“Her manager has been after her to take time off,” I noted. “They’ll be delighted if I call in some vacation. Will I be able to watch her training?”

“Sure thing. They mostly train them out in the yard. Exercise, block moves, and every sex act imaginable. When it comes time to pee, they just let ‘em water the lawn,” he said with laugh.

“The trainers keep track of her progress on that new software they use, Asset Panda. They give her pass fails on different criteria, and different ratings, and schedule her for discipline too, right on their phones. They use the maintenance tracking features, only instead of checking if the gears are greased, they’re checking if her pussy’s greased.”

Margot gasped, increasing her pace. Margot had implemented Asset Panda at the hotel, to track the hotel’s inventory. Now SHE was the inventory, a realization that made her rub all the harder. I knew how she felt, as I was ready to come in my pants.

“The guy who runs the training program says tracking is the key.”

I smiled, as that certainly sounded like Margot.

Harry continued. “They’d track how fast she could diddle her skiddle, how far she could squirt, and how fast she could run the obstacle course. Girls can do more jumping jacks and run through latrine pits faster than you’d think, when someone’s whipping their ass.”

The idea of my snooty wife, mixed in with dozens of other buck naked slave girls, being relentlessly trained for the auction block, was unimaginably delicious. I pictured her, titties bouncing and legs flailing, as she went hand-over-hand on the overhead bars, or did her jumping jacks. I’d take time off, too, so I could sit in the bleachers, and enjoy each step of her rapid and relentless reconditioning and mental breakdown.

“Could I get access to her daily records?” I said. “I’d love to see her report card, so I can track her progress.”

“Well, you are the police,” he said, laughing. “I can give you my logon. Heck, I’ll track her, too. It’ll be fun!”

“Great. I know my mom would love to see it, too. She used to work here and knows Margot pretty well. I’m sure she’d have lots of great training suggestions. I might even invite her to come watch.”

Margot whimpered at the thought of my mom watching her slave training, reviewing the daily progress reports and gradings Margot would never see. Nonetheless, Margot began sliding up and down the boards faster, bouncing her ass cheeks as she increased the pace. I was impressed. Her pussy was clearly red and irritated from the friction, but Margot, clever little slave bitch that she was, had figured out a way to turn the medieval torture for witches and whores to her own ends.

“So do you think they’ll really able to break her?” I asked. The question was for Margot’s benefit, not mine.

“It’s not a question of if, but when,” Harry replied. “She’s slave hot already. Hell, Sniffer told us that. If she comes up with a killer block routine, and puts her mouth to its best use, she’ll be block ready before you know it, and they’ll make you an offer you can’t refuse. But you’ll need to take her clothes and shit out of storage, and take ‘em home with you today.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because after we get her tatted and branded, she’ll be slave pussy, my friend. She’s heading for the auction block, and block pussy don’t need no fucking clothes.”

I knew from the showers that having her clothes nearby was a vital mental crutch for Margot. If she had been upset when I locked her clothes in the trunk of the car, how would she feel when her clothes were GONE, and the only things she had to identify her was the slave registration number on her upper lip and the details on her progress toward the block in the Slave Mart computer.

Sniffer barked his approval as Margot had a shattering slavegasm, the lips of her pussy quivering as they gripped the corner of the wood. The floor was clean now, but Sniffer growled and snapped when she collapsed in exhaustion. Gasping as the dog showed his teeth, Slave Mart’s newest slave slut quickly repositioned her lips on the board and began rubbing herself to another slavegasm.

[Carl Bradford]

I have privately bored Joe with my ideas of where this story should go, but nobody else needs to be distracted by that. This is truly epic writing, the equivalent of the gritty novels and movies about detectives in the 1940s--only this time, the person buried in grit (not to mention spunk) is the woman who lorded it over everyone while secretly dreaming of being what she is now--a collared slut. Pray continue, Mr. Doe!

[jeepster]

Yum! Can't wait to see where you take her next! This was great.

[Mr. Smith]

Man's best friend, Sniffer the slave hound. Love it.

[Jim927]

This was another great chapter in a story that I am loving. I can’t wait to read the next chapter to see where you take us. Please don’t keep us hanging too long and keep up the good work. You are definitely one of my favorite authors.

[butterballgurl]

I love it too. Can't wait to see what's around the corner for her. Hoping for the iron for her.

[imreadonly2]

I'm pushing through Any Chance? Auction to its conclusion with Carl, but I hope to return to Margot's adventures soon. There is definitely a branding iron in her future, and she'll be returning to her hotel in a somewhat different capacity...

[Belinda]

When I saw the recent review I went back and reread the whole story again. It is on of my favorites. Just a marvelous piece of works. Just wanted to say thank you again dear. She so reminds me of me.

[Jim927]

I have just finished re-reading this story and find that I like it even better the second time thru. Now that you have finished the any chance auction story I hope that you are able to get back to work on this one and on lady charlottes conditioning. Both of these are great stories that deserve to be finished.
I know that in one of the comments above you said that there will be an iron in her future. I would suggest that instead of the MAGA brand, her husband picks out a brand that he likes with no thought of what his wife will think. Whatever happens to her in the future, he will always know that she will forever wear his mark.
Have a happy New Year,
Jim

[lovethissite]

Joe the re read was better than the first time around and thanks for continuing the series.