by Lucy Wild
“I would love a tipple from this dispenser,” she said, taking him into her mouth and flicking her tongue over the engorged head until it began to drip as it was wont to do when handled in such a manner. She licked away each drop that formed before moving her mouth faster and deeper, drawing him into her throat until he grunted with pleasure and provided her with an equal measure to the gin he had been given but in much hotter and stickier form.
“I thank you for your drink,” Mrs Mann said, wiping the corner of her mouth as the beadle dressed himself once more.
“And I yours madam,” he replied. “Now to business. You have a girl baptised Olivia Twist who is eighteen today.”
“Bless her,” interposed Mrs Mann, dabbing her eye with her apron.
“And not withstanding a reward of twenty pounds, we have never discovered her father.”
“Then how did she come to have a name at all?”
“I invented it.”
“You sir?”
“I, Mrs Mann. We name our paupers in order. The last was S, Sexy, this was T, Twist. The next will be Underwear. I have names for all the alphabet. Now take me to the girl.”
“I’ll fetch her directly.” Mrs Mann left the room and found Olivia naked in the washroom with Susie still sponging the coal dust and encrusted cum from her body. “Quickly now,” Mrs Mann said, taking over with the sponge. As she slid the soapy water over Olivia’s body, she found herself dwelling on the swell of Olivia’s breasts, circling her nipples which stiffened under the attention of the nurse. Mrs Mann moved the sponge down between Olivia’s legs and scrubbed so vigorously the girl could not resist letting out a sigh, spreading her legs a little wider and bending her knees just so.
Mrs Mann continued to rub even as the sponge fell from her hands. Susie assisted in cleaning, rubbing the engorged clit of the inmate. “I must clean the inside of you as well to be sure,” said Mrs Mann, sliding two fingers into Olivia who only stood in silence as her body began to burn with heat despite the cold air around her. Mrs Mann continued to slide back and forth inside her whilst announcing, “A final taste test of your cleanliness I believe will suffice.” She leaned forward and replaced Susie’s fingers with her own tongue, lapping around Olivia’s clit until the girl reached a shuddering climax of some magnitude.
Satisfied at last, Mrs Mann dressed Olivia and brought her through to the beadle. “Bow to the gentleman Olivia.”
Olivia made a bow as best she could, her body still tingling with pleasure.
“Will you go with me?” asked Mr Bummer.
Olivia was about to undress, making assumptions as to the reason for the question, when she glanced across to Mrs Mann who shook her head vehemently.
“I will,” she said, bursting into tears at the thought of leaving the workhouse behind.
Mr Bummer led her through the streets from the workhouse to the whorehouse, taking her into a large room where eight or ten gentlemen sat around a table. At the top of the table was gentleman with a round red face.
“Bow to the board,” said Bummer.
Olivia saw no board but the table so bowed to that.
“What’s your name girl?” said the man in the high chair.
“Olivia Twist sir.”
“You know you’re an orphan I suppose?”
“What’s that sir?”
“The girl’s a fool,” said one of the men around the table.
“Hush!” replied the chair of the board. “You know you’ve no mother or father and that the parish brought you up.”
“Yes sir,” said Olivia, beginning to weep.
“What are you crying for?” said one man.
“I hope you say your prayers every night?” said another.
“Yes sir.”
“You have come here to be educated in the ways of whores and taught a trade.”
In unison the men stood up to reveal not one of them wore anything below the waist, their legs bare, their cocks proudly pointing into the air. “You begin tomorrow with tasting cum at six in the morning but for now you must demonstrate your current level of knowledge of such things. Begin at once Olivia Twist.”
Olivia was knelt down by the beadle before he stood back, the men standing in a long line as if queuing for their dinner. But was it not Olivia who was to be fed and not them? She bore in mind her encounter with the gentlemen in the coal cellar and made use of the technique she had found so effective with them as the first of the board slid himself into her mouth. He tasted warm and slightly salty and stretched her jaw to fit him in. Olivia sucked hard as his shaft as he ran his hands through her hair. From the corner of her eye she could see the others surrounding her until her vision was entirely taken up by cocks as if they made up the entirety of the world.
As she brought the first man to orgasm, she felt a heat within her loins but dared not touch herself, not knowing the etiquette at such a meeting. She felt him shake his member in her mouth, a spray of cum coating her tongue which she barely had time to swallow before the second man was inside her.
He did not last long, barely thirty seconds had passed before his cum hit the back of her throat. The others seemed to grow impatient, hands slid along shafts and she felt a sudden spray of spunk splash onto her face, followed by another load in her hair. She had another cock in her mouth a moment later as one splash after another of the salty liquid coated her face.
She blinked away the fluid as the last of the men came on her, spunk dripping from her chin to her chest as she wiped her eyes and licked her lips before being lifted to her feet. “Take her away Mr Bummer,” the chair of the board said. “She will do well here I believe.”
Olivia bowed to the board and was then hurried away to a long ward where she fell asleep with the cum drying on her face, awakening the next morning to begin life in the whorehouse. For the next six months Olivia took in little food and large cocks, the payment for her services rendered to the board to be spent on gruel for the inmates with the balance kept on account by their own good natures.
The room in which the whores were fed was a large stone hall which also served as their workplace. A copper pot at one end provided the food and a door at the other admitted the clients. Olivia and her companions grew so voracious with hunger that one girl suggested one night that unless she received more food than cum soon, she might take upon herself to eat the girl who slept next to her.
With a wild eye Olivia moved beds so that evening the girl, named Smith, awoke and slid under Olivia’s thin blanket. “I must eat,” she said, her eyes wild.
“So must I,” replied Olivia, twisting as her name suggested until her face was between the legs of her companion. “I will devour you,” she added, planting a kiss on Smith’s protruding lips before sliding slowly between them, finding the hole wet and ready and plunging into it. Whilst this was taking place, her companion did the same to Olivia, the pair eating their fill of each other until they reached the most satisfying climaxes, even as their stomachs continued to growl for more.
A council was at last held and lots were cast to see who should ask for more. Olivia won, or lost depending on your perspective. On the evening in question the master stood at the copper, his assistants beside him handing out the gruel.
Olivia was nudged and prodded as they ate far less than their fill until she at last stood up and advanced to the master. “Please sir, I want some more.”
The master was fat and healthy but turned very pale. “What!” he said at length.
“Please sir. I want some more.”
The master pushed Olivia to her knees. “All the men of the whorehouse are to be brought here this instant.”
He pulled out his cock as his assistants did the same. “You’ll get more all right,” he scowled, pushing himself into Olivia’s mouth. He thrust fast and hard in her, holding her head still until she gasped for air, feeling his cum run down the back of her throat. His assistants soon copied his example and poor Olivia could only catch a breath as best she could, more and m
ore cocks thrust towards her face. Someone bent her over and slid into her pussy and she let the cock in her mouth fall out to utter, “Please sir, I want some more.” A finger slid into her bottom as she tasted one man after another until she felt quite full with their liquid but they did not stop there, coming on her and in her to a man until not one pair of balls in the entire whorehouse was undrained. Only then was the beadle called for, Olivia still on her knees, her entire body and face coated in thick cum which ran down her as she shivered in place, her stomach engorged with the first full meal she had received in this establishment or any other.
Mr Bummer ordered her into confinement for her audacity and the next morning a bill was pasted on the whorehouse gate offering five pounds and a round of anal sex to anybody who would take Olivia Twist off the hands of the parish.
The gentlemen of the board came to general agreement on one point above any other, “Oliva Twist will take on a man well hung, I never was more convinced of anything,” they nodded. “Well hung indeed.”
Chapter 3
For a week after committing the offence of asking for more Olivia was kept in a dark and solitary room, the cum on her clothes and drying by degrees until she rustled with each movement, which were not many. She cried bitterly over her confinement and the injustice of her punishment after giving pleasure to every gentleman of the workhouse.
She was provided with exercise once daily. Each morning she was allowed to wash in the yard, Mr Bummer holding her clothes and observing her body, ensuring she did not dawdle with regular applications of his cane to her backside. Afterwards she was taken, still wearing not a stitch, into the hall where the other girls ate. Here she was tied over a table set aside for the purpose and spanked soundly as a warning to the others. Her bottom was the warmest part of her body at this time and the motion of the table on her clitoris whilst bound in place was such that she could not hold back an orgasm even whilst the blows to her posterior continued to fall.
After a number of days of this punishment a Mr Cumfield the arsesweep was passing down the High Street and cogitating on the manner and means of paying his rent arrears when he spotted the bill on the whorehouse gate.
Finding a gentleman of the board, Mr Cumfield smiled a toothless grin. “This girl that wants to be apprenticed?”
“What of her?”
“I could take her on in the arse sweeping business if you desire.”
“Walk in sir,” said the gentleman.
Once inside Mr Cumfield again made his proposition.
“Arse sweeping is a dangerous trade,” said Mr Limbkins of the board. “Young girls have almost lost their lives when smothered by the posterior of a larger client.
“That’s because they do not take a deep enough breath, not leave a gap in the crack for their nostrils. It’s laziness that’s all sir, I teach ‘em to hold their breath whilst their tongue is cleaning the hole and catch up on precious air once the client is cleaned.”
The board conversed amongst themselves before turning back to the arse sweep. “We do not approve of your proposal,” Mr Limbkins said.
“So you won’t let me have her?”
“Not for the premium we offered.”
“What’ll you give then gentlemen?”
“Three pound ten and you can have a blow job from her.”
“Come, say four pound and a face sitting and you’ve got rid of her for good.”
“Three pound ten and you come on her face once.”
“Three fifteen and she lets me do it in the style of man’s best friend?”
“Not a farthing more than three ten.”
“You are hard on me.” Mr Cumfield looked round the table and then the bargain was made. Mr Bummer instructed that Olivia was to be brought before the magistrate for approval that afternoon.
In pursuance of this Olivia was released from her bondage chair and put into clean clothing. “You’re to be a ‘prentice,” said Mr Bummer as they left the whorehouse. “At a cost to the parish of seventy shillings for a naughty orphan whom all have come inside.”
Olivia was brought to the magistrates where behind a desk sat two gentlemen with powdered heads. “This is the girl your worship,” said Mr Bummer. The magistrates continued sleeping.
“Wake them up,” said Mr Bummer to Olivia. “You know the way.”
With a sigh Olivia went round the desk and knelt before the men, reaching into their trousers and pulling out their cocks. She sucked one into her mouth as the old man stirred and stiffened, the other coming to life as his cock did in her hand. She made use of the methods she knew well, bringing each to orgasm in a matter of minutes.
“Oh this is the girl?” said the gentleman with spectacles as Olivia swallowed the last of his cum. “And I suppose you’re fond of arse sweeping are you?”
“She is your worship,” said Mr Bummer.
“And she will sweep arses will she?”
“If we bound her to any other trade, she would run away at once.”
“And you will look after her will you?” said the man to Mr Cumfield.
“I will,” said he with an ugly leer as Olivia came to stand shivering beside him, his hands squeezing her bottom roughly.
“What’s the matter girl?”
Olivia fell on her knees and clasped her hands together. “Please send me back to the bondage chair, starve me, beat me, but do not send me with this man, arse sweeping is no job for me.”
“We will not sanction these indentures,” said the gentleman, tossing aside the parchment. “Take her back to the whorehouse and treat her kindly with regular sex as you see fit. She clearly wants it.”
That same evening Mr Bummer did as ordered, tearing open Olivia’s whorehouse trousers as she lay strapped and bent over her chair, entering her most roughly as she gasped at the stretching of her insides from his girth.
The next morning the public were informed that Olivia Twist was again To Let and five pounds and anal sex would be given to anybody who cared to take possession of her.
Chapter 4
The very next day Mr Semenbally, the parochial pimp came across the bill of sale whilst leaving the whorehouse. He was a tall, gaunt man in garish suit with a jewel topped cane. “I have inserted myself in the two women you provided,” he said to Mr Bummer.
“You’ll make my fortune,” the beadle replied.
“Your prices are very tall Mr Bummer
“So are our women.”
“Well you must have your profit I suppose but I would like to make mine. Perhaps your girl for sale might be the way I could make my fortune.”
Mr Bummer grasped the pimp by the arm and led him in and it was soon arranged that Olivia would go to him that evening ‘upon liking’ which meant if the master found after a trial that he could fit enough cock in her without needing to add too much food besides that he should take him on for good.
Mr Bummer walked Olivia to meet the pimp, frowning down at him as she began to cry.
“Well of all the ungratefullest girls in my whorehouse Olivia, you are the worst.
“No sir, I am a good girl. I am just so lonely for all fuck me but all hate me. Pray, don’t be cross with me.”
Mr Bummer regarded Olivia for a few seconds before bidding her to dry her eyes and be good. They walked on in silence.
The pimp who had just put up the shutters of his brothel was making entries in his day book when Mr Bummer entered.
“So this is the girl?” Mr Semenbally said, pausing in the middle of a word.
“No one else.”
“Mrs Semenbally, come in here.”
His wife emerged from the room behind the brothel, cum dripping from her cheek as a sailor squeezed through all and passed into the street. “This is the girl? She’s very small in the chest.”
“She is small chested,” said Mr Bummer. “But she’ll grow. Remember she is only eighteen.”
“I dare say she will grow on our victuals and our drink. Get downstairs girl.” With this she pushed
Olivia down a flight of stairs into a stone cell, the anteroom to the kitchen were a slutty girl sat. “Here Charlotte,” she continued, “give this girl the cold bits put out for Tit. She hasn’t come home since the morning so she may go without.”
Olivia whose eyes glistened at the mention of meat was disappointed to learn Mrs Semenbally was referring to Charlotte’s breasts. She returned to the brothel whilst Charlotte lifted her top to expose her chest and brought Olivia’s mouth to suckle on her nipples. She sighed happily as Olivia’s lips warmed her before pushing her down under her skirts and pulling aside her knickers. Olivia began to lick her wetness as she slouched back in her seat, rocking her hips towards Olivia who made short shrift of the meal before her, bringing Charlotte to a shuddering and screaming orgasm in no time at all.
“Well,” said Mrs Semenbally as Olivia finished her meal. “Are you done?”
Olivia replied in the affirmative.
“Then come with me,” she said, taking up a lamp and leading the way upstairs. “Your bed is under the counter. You don’t mind sleeping among the condoms I suppose? Come, don’t keep me here all night.”
Olivia did not linger but meekly followed her new mistress.
Chapter 5
Olivia was left alone in the brothel with the lamp beside her. She looked around with awe and dread at the sex toys arrayed across the window space and on countless shelves. There were dildos and nipple clamps, ropes and straps, butt plugs and strap ons, enough to drive her mad with lust at the sight. His ardour was still heightened when she climbed into her narrow bed and fell asleep.
She was awakened in the morning by a kicking on the brothel door. As he undid the chains a voice began. “Open the door will yer?”
“I will directly madam,” said Olivia, turning the key.
“I suppose yer the new girl?” said the voice through the key hole.
“Yes madam.”
“How old are yer?”
“Eighteen madam.”
“Then I’ll spank yer when I get in. You just see if I don’t.”
