by Lucy Wild
Olivia drew back the bolts with a trembling hand and opened the door.
Outside was a slutty girl eating bread and butter.
“Did you want a dildo?” inquired Olivia innocently.
“You’ll want one before long if you make jokes like that,” said the girl. “Do you know who I am?”
“No madam.”
“I am Missis Tit Cockpole and you’re under me. Take down the shutters you young whore.” With this Tit spanked Olivia and entered the brothel.
Olivia took down the shutters as Mr and Mrs Semenbally came down, taking both girls down to breakfast.
“Come near the fire Tit,” said Charlotte. “I saved you some bacon. I know you like pork. Olivia, shut that door and take them bits. There’s your tea, take it and mind the shop.”
Tit was a charity girl but not from a whorehouse. She could trace her genealogy to all the way back to her parents who lived nearby. Fortune having cast upon her a nameless orphan she did not hesitate to make use of her. Once breakfast was completed she appeared in the shop as the first clients of the day came in. Setting them in the chairs in the window, she stripped Olivia of her clothes and offered her to each. Olivia for her part was unsure what was expected of her but soon came to realise as the gentlemen requested a show from the three girls of the shop.
Olivia was told to sit and watch Tit and Charlotte without moving and definitely without touching herself. As the two lovers began to touch each other, Olivia found it increasingly difficult to sit on her hands as it seemed did the three gentlemen observing affairs.
Charlotte stripped Tit slowly, teasing her audience as she took Tit’s tits into her mouth one after the other, sliding a hand down her panties and stroking her vigorously. Olivia’s pussy began to throb with desire as she forced herself to remain where she was.
Tit turned to Charlotte, kissing her way down her body until she was buried between her legs. “You can touch yourself but you mustn’t come,” Charlotte gasped.
The men reached for their cocks and pulled them out as Olivia eased the burning itch in her clit, having to stop almost instantly as she almost came. She moved her hand faster and slower as best she could, holding back whilst Charlotte came with a scream before her. She bent Tit over the counter a moment later, pushing two fingers inside her before beckoning the first of the men over, guiding his cock into her companion’s bottom. “Help those two,” she motioned to Olivia who stood up and found herself surrounded with the other two men. They slipped into both her holes in seconds and she was impaled between them, their bodies crushing her as she reached one climax after another, the emptiness inside her finally replaced with a delicious fullness.
She couldn’t hear the girls anymore as the men grunted ever louder in her ears until she felt them both come at the same time, spunk filling her pussy and her arse simultaneously. The men withdrew slowly and nodded their thanks to her.
“There’s many more where they came from,” Charlotte said as the man in Tit’s bottom groaned and fell still, filling her with spunk. “Many more indeed.
Olivia had been at the brothel for a month when Mr Semenbally turned to his wife one morning. “My dear, she has such an expression of melancholy and lust in her face that perhaps she would make a delightful street worker.”
Mrs Semenbally looked up but said nothing.
“I don’t mean a regular whore working the docks but one for the poor. A whore in proportion to income if you will.”
Mrs Semenbally was much struck by the idea but it would have compromised her dignity to say so, instead she inquired only why the idea had not occurred to her husband before now. Mr Semenbally construed this as acquiescence and thus it was determined that Olivia would be initiated into the mysteries of the street trade.
The next morning Mr Bummer entered the shop and passed a scrap of paper to Semenbally.
“Aha,” said the pimp. “An order for a whore eh?”
“A whore first and a parochial dividend after,” replied Mr Bummer with a wink.
Semenbally handed over a coin whereupon Mr Bummer made a passing show of being a magician rather than a beadle in that he made it disappear with such haste one would have thought it never existed.
“Olivia,” said Semenbally, “Come with me.”
They walked on through the most crowded and densely inhabited part of town then struck down a narrow street more dirty than any they had passed. There was no knocker nor bell on the open door where Olivia and his master stopped. They groped through the dark passage and reached a door atop the stairs.
It was opened by a young woman of nineteen or twenty who looked nervous.
“Are you the whore?” she asked in a low voice.
“That I am,” replied Olivia. “May we enter?”
“Enter your chamber and then enter you I say,” added Mr Semenbally, laughing at his own wit as they were admitted into a grim room with only a single bed and an empty fireplace.
“How do we do this?” the woman asked.
“However you wish,” the pimp said. “I can join in or wait outside.”
“I have known the touch of none, male or female,” said the woman. “My name is Kate by the way.”
“Well Kate,” said Semenbally, “shall we begin?”
He took off his coat and motioned for Olivia to commence proceedings. For her part Olivia recalled Charlotte’s slow striptease of Tit, using the same movements to remove Kate’s clothes, kissing each portion of skin that became exposed. The woman gasped as Olivia’s soft lips slid over her nipples, making them pucker and harden as Semenbally undressed quietly behind them both.
Once Kate was naked, Olivia pushed her back onto the bed, sliding her legs over her face, blocking her view and entreating her to stick out her tongue post haste. Kate did so, the taste of Olivia falling into her mouth as Semenbally moved between her legs, thrusting up inside her wetness in a single movement, making her gasp with surprise. Olivia observed the cock entering and leaving their client, the sight arousing her so much she needed only a light brushing over her clit to reach her first orgasm.
As she came she moved off Kate and knelt beside the bed, taking Semenbally’s cock into her mouth, tasting Kate on his shaft as she drew him deeper to the back of her throat before guiding him back into their client’s pussy. She toyed with her clit as Semenbally moved ever faster, growling with lust as his orgasm approached.
Kate reached a climax first, Olivia’s hands on her clit to assist and to bring her to a second soon after. Semenbally could last no longer as she spasmed around his cock, filling her with his seed before slowly withdrawing and standing up again.
“Well Olivia,” said Semenbally as they walked home afterwards. “How do you like it?”
“Pretty well thank you,” she replied. “I’m not sure I am very good though.”
“Ah, you’ll get better with time.”
Olivia wondered in her own mind how long it had taken Semenbally to get good at it but she thought better than to ask the question, walking back to the brothel and thinking over all she had seen and heard.
Chapter 6
The month’s trial was over and Olivia was formally apprenticed as a whore. It was a season of good fortune and many had funds to make use of the brothel. In the course of a few weeks Olivia acquired a great deal of erotic experience.
As Olivia accompanied her master in most expeditions, she had many opportunities of observing the variety of shapes and forms that composed humanity. For months Olivia grew well known in the town, so much so in fact that Tit Cockpole grew jealous of her, Charlotte treating her ill because Tit did.
Now comes the event which changed Olivia’s life forever. She and Tit were in the kitchen when Tit pulled Olivia’s nipple and expressed opinion that she was a sneak who would be hanged. “How’s your mother, whorehouse?” said Tit.
“She’s dead so don’t say anything about her to me.”
Olivia’s colour rose and she breathed quickly as Cockpole continued. “Wh
at did she die of?”
“Of a broken heart so I’m told.”
“What’s set you a snivelling now?”
“Don’t you say anything more.”
“Or what? Your mother was a right down bad ‘un.”
“What did you say?”
“A bad ‘un and it’s good she died when she did or she’d have been transported or hung.”
Crimson with rage, Olivia threw over the chair and table, seized Tit by the tit and shook her until her teeth chattered in her head. Olivia was roused at last, her attitude erect, her eye bright, her whole person changed as she glared at her tormentor crouching at her feet.
“She’ll murder me!” blubbered Tit. “The girl’s a murdering me.”
Charlotte appeared, grabbing Olivia and spanking her soundly before Mrs Semenbally took over. When they were wearied of this violent exercise, they threw Olivia down into the cellar and locked her in.
“Oh what a mercy we weren’t murdered in our beds,” said Tit.
“That’s teach Mr Semenbally to have the whorehouse brats, all of them born to be murderers and robbers from the cradle,” said Charlotte.
“What’s to be done?” asked Mrs Semenbally. “He’ll kick that door down in ten minutes.” Olivia’s thuds against the timber in question rendered the occurrence highly probable. “Run to Mr Bummer Tit and tell him to come here directly.
Tit started off at full speed, tearing through the streets with no cap on his head and a knife at his eye.
Chapter 7
Tit reached the whorehouse soon after and called for the beadle. “Oh Mr Bummer,” cried Tit. “Olivia has turned vicious. He tried to murder me and Charlotte and missis.”
Mr Bummer followed Tit to the brothel, finding the position of affairs not improved. The beadle applied his mouth to the keyhole.
“Olivia!”
“Let me out,” replied Olivia from inside.
“Do you know this cock?” Mr Bummer said, thrusting his member through a knothole in the timber.
“Yes.”
“Ain’t you afraid of it?” said Mr Bummer before letting out a squeak. “You have hold of it miss.” His squeaks turned into gasps as the sound of wet squelches filled the air. “You have it inside you,” he moaned. “Oh my word, you have it inside you. You are gripping me are you not?”
“Let me out and I’ll let you come.”
“She must be mad,” said Mrs Semenbally, “no girl in their right mind would try to blackmail you so.”
“It’s not madness, it’s meat,” replied Mr Bummer. “She loves my meat and more.” He fell silent as the door rattled in place for a minute more before with a groan and a grunt, Mr Bummer reached orgasm, spurting into Olivia’s pussy through the hole in the door.
“Meat?” said Mrs Semenbally.
“You’ve let her indulge in too much man meat, cock in a word, Mrs Semenbally, cock. What have paupers to do with too much meat? If you’d kept her on pussy, none of this would have happened. All that can be done is to starve her a while and then keep her on pussy for the rest of her apprenticeship.”
At this point Olivia recommenced kicking the door. “I let you come, now let me out!” she yelled.
The door was unlocked and she was dragged out by the collar. “Aren’t you a nice girl?” said Semenbally as he walked in the door and observed proceedings.
“He called my mother names.”
“So what if he did? She deserved it.”
“It’s a lie!”
Mrs Semenbally burst into tears which could only be assuaged by the household stripping Olivia and making use of her as Mr Bummer had done. She was ravenous for sex and none could exhaust her. She brought Charlotte and Tit to three orgasms before she’d taken a breath or so it seemed, using her hands to tease their clits without even undressing them. Whilst this was undertaken Mr Semenbally fucked Olivia heartily, spunking inside her before his wife took over, grinding her thighs against those of the apprentice until she reached a climactic orgasm as if she’d never had one before. Still Olivia demanded more until Semenbally had no alternative but to shut her back in the cellar without a stitch to wear.
As the household retired that night Olivia wept bitter tears of anger over her situation, desiring such sex as could not be found in the simple and bitter brothel she resided within. As such whilst the moon was still high, she shoved against the cellar door and burst into the shop. Before any could rise, she dressed herself and was out the door.
She stumbled along the path out of town until the sun slowly rose and she observed wagons rolling past her into the countryside. Stopping by the workhouse of her youth to rest she observed some of her former companions inside.
“Finn,” she said, as she smiled through the gate. “Is anyone up?”
“None but me.”
“Then pass your cock through the bars for I am away and this must be my goodbye to you and to this county.”
Finn did as asked, his cock lit by the early morning sun as Olivia lifted her dress and turned away from him, guiding him into her bottom as she brought his hand round to her clit. She pressed back against the gate, the cold metal bars indenting her buttocks as she fucked him as fast as she could, warming herself and him as they reached a mutual orgasm at last. She felt his cum spurt into her posterior as her pussy spasmed from her own climax.
“I am off to seek my fortune,” she said as she slid off him and turned around. “I don’t know where.”
“I am glad to see you but don’t stop.”
“Goodbye to you Finn. You will be well and happy.”
“After I am dead perhaps. God bless you Olivia.”
The blessing was the first Olivia had ever heard invoked upon her head and through the rest of her life she never forgot it.
Chapter 8
Olivia reached the high road at eight in the morning. She was five miles from the town and sat on a milestone to rest. The stone bore in large letters an intimation that it was seventy miles to London.
London! Not even Mr Bummer would find her there. She passed another four miles before meditating on how exactly to get there. She had a crust of bread and a blouse. She walked on another twenty miles and all that time tasted nothing but the crust and water begged from cottage doors. When night came she slept under a hayrick.
The next morning she was so hungry she exchanged a blowjob for a penny and the penny for a loaf. She walked on twelve miles and waited that night at the bottom of a steep hill for a stagecoach to pass. When one did she begged admittance and the coach rolled to a stop. Out stepped two tall men who informed her she could join them if they could fit her both into her mouth at once. This she did with ease whereupon they declared her a spoilsport and the coach rolled on without her.
A turnpike man gave him bread and cheese and asked for nothing in return. Olivia was so grateful that she sank onto him and planted many kisses on his mouth, feeling him stiffen underneath her until he reached under her skirts and pulled down her panties, guiding himself into her as she rocked above him, bringing him to orgasm whilst grinding her pelvis on his, reaching her own climax before his cock had time to soften within her.
On the seventh day since leaving her native place, Olivia limped into Barnet. She sat with bleeding feet on a doorstep as the town awoke. Some people stopped to gaze at her before hurrying on, none wanting to indulge in her offers of sex with one so dusty and filth covered. As she sat there, she observed a young man who was watching her from across the street. Eventually he crossed over and addressed Olivia.
“Hullo covey, what’s the row?”
The young man was Olivia’s age, snub nosed, common faced, short with sharp eyes and a hat stuck so lightly on his head that it threatened to fall at any moment.
“I am hungry, tired and sexually frustrated,” replied Olivia. “I have gone without food and sex for many days.”
“You want grub you’ll have it. You want shags, you shall have them. Come with me.”
Assisting Olivia to r
ise, the young man took him to a chandler’s shop and purchased ham and a loaf. Next he took Olivia to a public house and then on to the tap room in the rear. Here a pot of beer was brought in and the pair set to their meal.
“As to the shag,” said the man. “We can indulge now if you wish?”
“What here? In public?”
“None enter the tap room at this time of day. Come quick, before the landlord returns.”
Olivia watched as the man drew out his cock, pushing Olivia’s head down towards it. She took it into her mouth and began gulping upon it.
“My eyes, you are quite the expert,” he exclaimed. “Stop, quick before I come. Now climb onto me and cover me with your dress.
Olivia sat facing away from her companion, her dress lifted so she could lower herself onto his cock. From this position none could see that he was inside her and she rocked slowly on him, squeezing her internal muscles to grip him as the landlord passed back and forth, oblivious before them.
“I will come if you keep doing that,” the man said.
“Good,” replied Olivia. “I am most filled by you, you have a handsome specimen of manhood. I am glad it is inside me.” She let out a gasp as he thrust hard up into her and without another word between them they fucked heartily until he grunted in her ear and she spent him twitch inside her, spunk spraying up into her pussy as the landlord frowned at the pair before passing on his way once more.
“Going to London?” the man asked when Olivia had slid off him back to her seat.
“Yes.”
“Got any lodgings?”
“No.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“The stranger whistled.
“Do you live in London?” Olivia asked.
“Yes I do. I suppose you want someplace to sleep.”
“I do indeed.”
“I know a respectable old gentleman who’ll give you lodgings for nothing more than a lick of your pussy and never ask for the change.”
This offer of shelter was so tempting that a more friendly dialogue ensued during which Olivia discovered her friend’s name was Jack Dawkins or as he was better known, ‘The Artful Fucker.”