‘May I help you, Miss?’
‘Certainly,’ Thrift answered, wondering how Elizabeth would have coped with such a situation. ‘Please may I enquire the fare to London on the Emerald Isle? For myself and my companion.’
The man barely glanced at her before consulting his screen.
‘Two guineas, Miss,’ he told her. ‘Each.’
‘Very well. I shall send my companion back with the money presently,’ Thrift answered, and withdrew.
‘A simple matter,’ she stated as soon as they were out of earshot. ‘So, to work. The fare is two guineas each, forty-two shillings, which at six shillings...’
‘Is seven men!’
‘Seven men, precisely, although dinner will be extra. You may need to do nine, or better, ten.’
‘Ten men!’
‘Do not be difficult, Lucy! We can not seem to be in a state of financial distress, or suspicions will be aroused. Now come, we must hurry. Perhaps if you were to do one, then to take a glass of something, although I hardly like to be seen buying drink...’
She went quiet as they reached the escalator, which they descended, then made their way to the centre of town. The streets were thronged with people, including many apparent bachelors, but in groups rather than alone. She hesitated, once more deeply embarrassed and with no idea about how to go about approaching men, never mind with such a lewd offer. Lucy was looking at the ground and shuffling her feet again, so was evidently going to be little or no help.
Twice they walked across the centre of town and back, Thrift quite unable to pluck the courage up, with the option of risking going into a bank looking increasingly tempting, yet with memories of what she and Lucy had done the night before constantly pushing at her mind. It had felt good to watch Lucy suck on a man’s penis, and it would feel good again. Finally she spoke.
‘We must be decisive. Did not Mr Hutton mention somewhere called the gin- nels, where apparently such things go on?’
‘Ginnels are alleyways,’ Lucy answered, ‘perhaps in the lowest part of town?’
‘Which is?’
Lucy made a face but glanced to the left. Thrift drew in her breath.
‘Lucy Prior, have you been attempting to evade your duty?’
Lucy’s expression grew more sullen still. Thrift reached out, to take a firm grip on her friend’s arm and pull her in the direction the glance had betrayed.
‘We will be caught and taken back anyway!’ Lucy protested. ‘Why must I...’
‘Nonsense!’ Thrift snapped. ‘Now come along. I start to suspect that you have been in Kendal before, as you clearly know more than you are admitting.’
Lucy didn’t deny the accusation, and continued to pout as Thrift led her in among a maze of narrow streets. They passed one girl in tawdry finery, leaning in a doorway, then another. The alley they’d been following reached a cobbled circle, sunk in the shade of tall, shabby houses at the junction of five narrow streets. A man was just emerging from one of the other alleys, well enough dressed in the fashion of a successful shopkeeper or other tradesman, but looking more than a little shifty. Seeing them, he made to hasten past, but stopped as Thrift curtsied and spoke.
‘Good morning, sir, my apologies for addressing you when we have not been introduced, but I was wondering if you could spare a moment of your time?’
He stopped, a succession of emotions passing across his face as his eyes flicked over her, then Lucy, who was looking firmly at her feet. At length he raised his hat.
‘At you services, Ladies. You have missed your way, I see?’
‘Not at all,’ Thrift answered. ‘Rather we... my companion that is, wishes to offer a service.’
‘A service?’ he queried.
‘Yes, we have... er... we have suffered a certain financial embarrassment,’ Thrift explained quickly.
‘Money stolen?’ he queried in a kindly voice. ‘How unfortunate. I would escort you to the police station, or course, but...’
‘We have no wish to visit the police station. We merely wish to offer a... our... her... er... services, in the matter of... of the satisfaction of your... your natural urges...’
She stopped. The man was staring at her in astonishment and she could feel her burning blushes. Lucy was still looking at the ground. At last he spoke.
‘Good heavens, Miss! There’s no call to be lowering yourself to this sort of thing, not a nice young girl like you, Miss, nor your companion. A shame it is...’
‘Sir!’ Thrift interrupted. ‘My companion wishes to suck your penis, for which the charge is six shillings precisely. Now if you wouldn’t mind?’
His eyes were bulging from his head, his face beetroot in hue, but he stayed put, glancing from Thrift to Lucy and back. Finally he spoke again.
‘You have a room?’
‘A room?’ Thrift queried.
‘A room,’ he answered, his tone suddenly very different. ‘To go and do the business.’
‘I don’t...’ Thrift began, only to be interrupted.
‘I’ll take you to Fat Mandy’s. Come along.’
He had begun to grin, and, taking Thrift by the arm, set off up one of the alleys. Thrift quickly caught hold of Lucy, and together they were led to a narrow, high-gabled house with a green door and apparently only one room per storey. A huge woman in a dress of some shocking pink material opened the door to a knock and held a quick conversation with the man before they were admitted. The big woman showed no surprise at all, but led them up two flights of stairs, to a room overlooking the back, a maze of walls and roofs, with washing lines strung between. A worn carpet covered the floor, a battered dressing table stood to one side and a large bed to the other. The reek of cheap perfume hung in the air.
Thrift watched, dazed, as the man casually pushed Lucy down on the bed, flopped out his cock and offered it to her mouth. She stayed as she was, lips closed, looking resentfully up at him, then towards Thrift. The big woman, evidently Fat Mandy herself, had stayed in the room, and gave a crow of laughter before she spoke.
‘Like that is it? Does she need her arse strapped before she’ll do it, eh?’
‘Um... er... come along, Lucy!’ Thrift snapped. ‘Or I will have you strapped!’
Lucy opened her mouth to speak, thought better off it, and took the man in, her expression sulkier than ever and tinged with disgust as she began to mouth on the little wrinkled cock. The big woman laughed again, and gave Thrift a familiar nudge before speaking.
‘Good to watch ‘em suck, ain’t it?’
Thrift returned an embarrassed smile, taken aback, but unable to deny the pleasure in watching Lucy suck cock. The woman went on.
‘No call to be shy love. I get a fair few of your sort in here.’
‘My sort?’ Thrift asked in alarm, sure they’d been spotted as runaways again.
‘Professional ladies what like to amuse themselves, by having their companions suck a cock or two, or take one between the tits. Makes ‘em wonderful obedient, so I’m told, ‘specially if you does it now and then anyway, just to remind ‘em what it’s like.’
‘Absolutely, yes,’ Thrift agreed, not wanting to contradict the woman.
‘Funniest thing is,’ Fat Mandy went on, ‘now and then you get the real strutters, quality girls, only with them, it’s the companions what are making the young ladies do the dirty stuff! Who’d have thought it, eh?’
Thrift responded with a confused nod. The man was starting to get hard in Lucy’s mouth, and her sulky look had begun to fade, but he pulled out, to sit down on the bed. His thighs came wide, and he spent a moment adjusting his trousers, to spill the whole of his cock and balls out from inside. Lucy went down on her knees, still pouting a little, but taking the now half stiff little cock straight back in her mouth.
Thrift adjusted her position,
trying not to show the pleasure she felt and to resist the urge to press her hand to her quim. The man spent a moment removing Lucy’s bonnet and took her by the hair, controlling her sucking. She had put her hands meekly behind her back, and kept them there until he again paused, to pull both forward and place her hands firmly on his balls and base of his cock. She began to play with him, fiddling with his balls and ringing his cock with her fingers as her mouth was fucked. Thrift swallowed, her arousal now at the point where it was hard to resist further humiliating Lucy, and a thought struck her.
‘I will have her go bare chested for an extra two shillings,’ she announced.
The man stop fucking Lucy’s head and turned, his face now dark beetroot as he nodded urgently.
‘Come along now, Lucy,’ Thrift urged as Lucy tried to go back to sucking. ‘show your bosom for the gentleman.’
Lucy gave a little whimper as her head was pulled off the man’s cock, which was now fully erect, a little pink rod of flesh, shiny with her saliva. She threw Thrift a single look, half imploring, half resentful, and then her fingers went to the buttons of her dress. The man watched, nursing his erection with his eyes glued to Lucy’s chest as the dress came open and was pushed down, exposing the bulging front of her chemise where the corset pushed her breasts up. With only a moment’s hesitation she undid the buttons and laces, to tug the halves wide, exposing her chubby white breasts, with each nipple stiff in erection as they lay in their nest of cotton and lace.
‘Very pretty,’ Thrift remarked, ‘and very appropriate. Back to work with you now.’
The man grunted as Lucy took his cock in again, and immediately resumed his grip in her hair. Thrift could see he was going to come, but her eyes were on Lucy’s breasts as they bobbed and wobbled to the motion of her sucking. Her quim needed touching, badly, or preferably licking, and she promised herself she would have Lucy do it before they left. The big woman was also plainly enjoying the show, her plump face set in a cruel smile and one hand resting gently on her lower belly.
Suddenly it happened, the man grunting loudly and jamming Lucy’s head right down on his cock. Her cheeks blew out, a great gush of sperm exploded from around her lips and more from her nose in a froth of whitish bubbles as she was held in place and forced to swallow. Then she was off him, panting, her eyes glazed as she sat back on her haunches. He took a moment to recover, then delved into the pocket of his suit, to draw out a handful of coins.
‘Half for the house,’ he said, extending a hand within two florins towards Fat Mandy, ‘and half for the tart.’
He was offering the four shillings to Lucy. Thrift reached out, only for the big woman to put a restraining hand on her arm.
‘No, love, always let ‘em take the money theirselves. Makes her feel like she’s been a whore that way, it does. Good for ‘em. Proper contrite they are, when you make ‘em feel like they’re a whore.’
Thrift nodded and tried not to catch Lucy’s eye as the coins were pocketed.
‘Thank you,’ Thrift addressed the big woman, ‘and would it be possible for us to use your room again?’
‘Whenever you like dear,’ the woman answered. ‘Like to do her good and often, do you? Well, I can see you would. Pretty little thing, ain’t she? I can make you a regular booking, if you’ve a mind? Wednesday afternoons suite?’
‘Very pretty,’ Thrift agreed, ‘but no, the thing is, we need to avail ourselves of your services this afternoon, several times in fact.’
‘Several times?’ the woman queried. ‘My but you’re a hard one, and to look at you butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.’
‘No, no, you misunderstand,’ Thrift said quickly as she moved aside to let the man out, he having apparently lost all interest in proceedings. ‘My companion and I need to accumulate somewhat in excess of two guineas before this evening, and although at three shillings, or even four, I realise we will need some twenty men, I feel that with your help...’
‘Two guineas, you say?’ the woman interrupted, and laughed. ‘Been down the gambling houses, have we? Dad going to take his belt to your backside if you ask for any more allowance?’
Thrift nodded, blushing.
‘Well, you’re not the first, and I’ve had ‘em needing twenty guineas, never mind two. You won’t get it making missy here suck cock, that’s for sure, not in one afternoon.’
‘What else is there to do?’ Thrift asked. ‘We might offer her for more... more intimate services perhaps, and yet...’
‘Ten shillings, maybe, for a good hard buggering, with positions,’ the woman replied, ‘maybe twelve, but you’d be lucky.’
Thrift was blushing hot, and Lucy was staring in horrified consternation, but Fat Mandy seemed not to notice as she went on.
‘Course, I could get you plenty if she was willing to surrender her maidenhead, but...’
‘She’s not...,’ Thrifty began, and stopped. ‘She has never had a man, no, but... but... let us just say that her maidenhead is no longer intact.’
‘No?’ Fat Mandy responded. ‘Horse riding, was it? Happens... it happens, but why didn’t you say? There’s a remedy for that, there is, and I’ve a gentleman in town this very minute what’ll pay six guineas for a beauty like your Lucy, and no questions.’
‘A remedy?’ Thrift queried, worried despite the thought of six guineas. ‘Surely this would require a surgical procedure of some delicacy, not to say...’
‘Oh, no dearie, I’m not going to sew her up! Any fool can spot sewing up, and he’ll want to inspect her, you may be sure. No, love, a few drops of aspergantium and a trifle of plastic skin and we’ll be ready in a jiffy, just so long as she’s not too ragged. Now, dear, let’s be having a look at that little cunt of yours.’
She had turned to Lucy, who was sitting on the bed, and responded with a sigh, lifting her knees as she lay back. Fat Mandy burrowed in among Lucy’s petticoats, quickly turning them up and pulling the split of the drawers beneath apart. Lucy sighed as her soft, golden quim was exposed, her lips puffy and white juice smeared liberally between the cheeks of her bottom and on her inner thighs.
‘Not so coy after all!’ Fat Mandy chuckled, and casually poked one big finger into Lucy’s open hole. ‘Accident you say? ‘fraid it don’t look that way, more like she’s been had by the town bull.’
Lucy gave a little moan but made no effort to stop herself being fingered, nor to close her thighs. After a moment Fat Mandy turned to Thrift and spoke again.
‘No, sorry love. I can tighten her up, nice and sweet, but she’s too ragged to fool an old lecher like Colonel Doyle. Shame.’
Thrift peered close as Fat Mandy stuck another finger in to spread Lucy’s hole wide, showing off the torn red frill of flesh, unmistakably broken beyond repair. Her own quim twitched at the sight, and scent, as Fat Mandy went on.
‘Still, happen I can find ten, maybe twelve men to go in her arse, if she can take it...’
‘No!’ Lucy answered indignantly. ‘Not twenty! Not up my bottom! I’ve never... not like that!’
‘Speaks, does it?’ Fat Mandy answered. ‘Now you just mind your language, my girl, and do as you’re told.’
‘Yes I do speak,’ Lucy answered, ‘and before I am sodomised, I think we should at least look at Thrift’s cunt, and see...’
‘Well I never!’ Fat Mandy interrupted. ‘Why you impertinent little...’
‘No,’ Thrift sighed, ‘she’s right. I am... the same... broken. See if you can do anything for me.’
She climbed on the bed, kneeling so that it would be possible for her corset panel to be opened. Fat Mandy hesitated only a moment, and then began to rummage under Thrift’s skirts, inverting the bustle, hoisting dress and petticoats high, spending a moment fiddling with the corset gudgeons before they would come loose, but making short work of the drawers panel, and Thrift’s bare bottom was sticking
out behind. Painfully embarrassed and struggling not to pout, she set her knees apart as far as her corset would permit. A fat finger was slid up into her quim from behind and she had shut her eyes, dreading what would be said as her hole was inspected. Her quim was wet, and Fat Mandy took her time, poking and probing, until Thrift was having to fight not to stick her bottom out in response. At last the big woman delivered her verdict.
‘Oh yes, you’ll do nicely dear. A doctor couldn’t have split you no more neatly. I can have you patched up in just a jiffy, I can.’
Thrift sat on the bed feeling sorry for herself. Her quim stung, and felt uncomfortably tight. To have her maidenhead repaired she had been obliged to lie spreadeagled on the bed, nude from the waist down, with her ankles tied to keep her quim open while the rubber skin was applied and allowed to set, the tiny bag of pig’s blood fitted, then the aspergantium dripped into her half-closed hole. It been both humiliating and painful, and still hurt, while there had barely been time to compose herself afterwards before the girl who had been sent to fetch the Colonel returned. Dressed once more, she sat ready on the bed with Lucy on the dressing table chair. She stiffened at the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and then the door had swung open to reveal Fat Mandy and a tall, red-faced man with white whiskers and a smart summer coat of cream coloured linen.
‘Here we are, Colonel, sir, as fresh as a little daisy,’ Fat Mandy announced as Thrift and Lucy rose to curtsey.
Schooled for Service Page 21
