by Lucy Wild
“I was kept by force.”
“By whom?”
“Him I told you of before.”
“I see. Now we have decided to extort the secret from Spunks but if we cannot, you must deliver up Getin.”
“I will not do it!”
“Tell us why.”
“I’ll not turn on those like myself.”
“Then give us Spunks.”
“And if he turns on the others?”
“There the matter shall rest.”
After receiving their assurance, Nancy proceeded to tell them where Spunks was most often found and at what times. “He is tall but not stout and he constantly looks over his shoulder. His face is dark and his lips discoloured. He sometimes bites his hands in fits. On his cock is…”
“A broad red mark like a burn?” cried Mrs Downlow.
“You know him?”
“I think I do but we shall see. Now what can we do for you in return?”
“Give me a final gentle orgasm if you please and nothing more.”
Nancy let herself fall into their arms and Mrs Downlow kissed her neck softly, the other lady observing in silence as Nancy’s dress was lifted to expose her pussy. Tit peered over at them, rubbing her own pussy vigorously, biting her lip to ensure she was silent when she reached her orgasm a minute later. Meanwhile Mrs Downlow stroked Nancy’s clit gently whilst still embracing her until she reached a shuddering climax. “Are you sure you wish for nothing more?” she asked as Nancy set her dress back into place.
“I am past all hope, chained to my life and I have gone too far to go back. I must go home.”
“Home?”
“Home, such a home as I have built for myself with the work of my life. Now go!”
AS they ascended the steps, Tit darted away at her utmost speed, making for Getin’s house as fast as her legs would carry her.
Chapter 47
Getin sat in her lair with bloodshot eyes, crouching over a cold hearth, Tit asleep at her feet. Her hatred of Nancy overwhelmed her thoughts until she heard footsteps in the street. “At last,” she muttered. “At last.”
Sikes entered not long after and took in Getin’s expression in a glimpse. “What now?”
“Suppose this girl asleep on the floor was to peach. What would you do?”
“Grind her skull under my boot.”
“What if I did it?”
“Bash your brains out.”
“And what if it was Nancy?”
“What do you mean?” asked Sikes, drawing back.
Getin did not answer, shaking Tit awake instead. “Tell him!”
“Tell him what?” asked Tit, shaking herself awake.
“About Nancy.”
“I followed her to London Bridge. She let an old woman bring her to orgasm after telling them she would give up Spunks.”
“Hell’s fire!” cried Sikes.
“A word Bill,” said Getin. “Let’s not be too hasty.”
But Sikes was already out the door and into the street. He reached his house in no time, his strained jaw seeming to start through his skin as he drew back the curtain around the bed. “Get up,” he snarled at Nancy.
“Why, what on earth’s the matter Bill?”
“You were watched tonight,” he said, grasping her by the throat and dragging her into the middle of the room. “You were heard.”
“Then spare me,” gasped the girl, “spare my life as I spared yours.”
Bill let her fall and grasped his pistol. In his fury he beat her twice with all the force he had. She staggered, fell, blinded with blood from the gash in her forehead. She breathed one prayer for mercy to her Maker with all the feeble strength she had.
The murderer staggered back and seized a heavy club, shutting out the sight with his hand, he lashed out and struck her down.
Chapter 48
Of all the bad deeds carried out in London, that was the worst. The sun rose but Bill had not stirred. He had struck and struck again before tossing a rug over her remains. He had lit a fire and thrust the club into it. He finally got up long into the morning and washed himself, the blood stains still visible around the room.
He left in a daze, walking the streets and thinking all viewed him with suspicion.
“I heard talk of a murder,” he heard one person say as he passed by in the late afternoon.
“A woman,” added another.
On went Sikes, hearing Nancy’s last low cry in every movement of the wind. The night was spent in a shed in a field and a vision came to him of Nancy dying again and again. At last he could stand no more, walking back into the London he knew as if he might exhume her memory by walking where she used to walk.
Chapter 49
Mrs Downlow alighted from a hackney coach at her own door and dragged out a naked man behind her. The man was Spunks.
“How dare you do this to me,” said Spunks as they entered the house. Downlow said nothing, forcing Spunks onto his back and clambering onto him, teasing him to the edge of orgasm before leaving him frustrated, standing again and frowning down at the frustrated fellow. “Let me come or let me go.”
“Feel free to leave,” said Mrs Downlow. “But the instant you leave, I will have you apprehended on charges of fraud and robbery.”
“And you on kidnap,” replied Spunks.
“I brought you here to strike a bargain.” With that she again climbed onto Spunks, teasing him once more to the brink of climax before sitting still on his cock and refusing to let him tip over the edge. “Either take on my charges publicly or talk to me in private.”
“This is a fine treatment from my father’s oldest friend.”
“It is because I was his friend that I am about to let you come,” returned Mrs Downlow, “Edward Leeford.”
“What does the name matter? Just let me climax for pity’s sake.”
“You have a stepsister.”
“I am an only child.”
“Your father separated from your mother and fell amongst new friends,” said Mrs Downlow, beginning to bounce up and down on his cock once more. “This you know.”
“Not I.”
“You know of whom I speak. One was a naval officer with two children, a daughter of nineteen and a mere infant.”
“What is this to me?”
Mrs Downlow began to stroke her clit, slowing her movements and her speech as she brought herself to orgasm whilst staring at Spunks who growled in frustration. “They resided together and your father grew to love them all. He found himself contracted to that daughter and left with a great sum when the naval officer died. He died shorly after leaving no will so all property fell to you and her.
Spunks held his breath as his orgasm grew near. Again it was thwarted and he growled with rage. “Let me come!”
“Not yet. Before your father went abroad he came to me and left me a portrait of the girl. I went when all was over to the scene of his guilty love and found her gone. Why or whither, none could tell.”
Spunks drew a gasping breath as he tried to thrust his way to orgasm.
“When your stepsister, a feeble and neglected child was cast my way I saw how she resembled that portrait but she was snared away before I knew her history. Oh my!” Mrs Downlow came again, her pussy contracting around Spunks’ cock as he begged to be allowed to climax. “I lost the girl,” she continued when her breathing had returned to normal. “No efforts could find her. I went to look for you on your estate in the West Indies to find you had left. And yet since then I have found much more besides. I have found you have a sister. I have found there was a will which your mother destroyed, leaving the gain to you at her death. I found it contained a reference to a child which may be born. You went there. You destroyed the proof of who she was, tossing them into the river.”
“No!” cried the coward.
“I know every word of what you told Getin. Shadows on the wall heard you.”
“I know nothing.”
“Will you disclose the whole?”
“Just let me come!”
“Will you set your hand to a statement of truth before witnesses?”
“Let me come!”
“Will you remain here until the document is drawn up?
“Yes, for God’s sake, yes.”
Mrs Downlow began to ride him at an indecent speed, taking mere seconds to bring him to orgasm. As he shot spunk into her, he growled and groaned with satisfaction. As he recovered Mrs Downlow stepped off him and smiled. “You will make restitution to the innocent girl and then go where you please.”
The door burst open before another word could be spoken and a servant strode in. “The man will be taken!”
“The murderer?”
“His dog has been seen lurking and they are on his tail with the dog leading the way.”
“I’ll give fifty pounds for his capture. What of Getin?”
“She has not been seen but she will be taken soon I have no doubt.”
Spunks was locked in the room as Mrs Downlow set out to follow the hue and cry in a fever of excitement.
Chapter 50
In the dirtiest region that abuts the Thames, there are a maze of muddy narrow streets thronged by the poorest people. In such a neighbourhood lies Jacob’s Island. Here the warehouses are roofless and empty, the walls crumbling. In an upper room of a broken open house sat three people. Toni Fucket and another named Kags.
“When was Getin took?” asked Fuckit.
“Two this afternoon.”
“And Bet?”
“She went to see the body and went mad, they took her off to hospital and there she remains.
“What of Bates?”
“He’ll be here soon no doubt. My concern is Tit.”
“As it is with many men.”
“I mean Tit. If she turns King’s evidence, Getin will swing.”
“Let’s have no talk of that. Come closer and warm me, the night is chill.”
Kags shuffled up beside Fuckit and in a minute they were kissing. Another minute and both were naked, Tit riding Kags and moaning with pleasure.
Whilst they fucked Sikes’s dog bounded into the room. “He can’t be coming here?” said Tit, jumping to her feet and scrambling for her clothes.
There was a knock at the door and in burst a man with the lower half of his face buried in a handkerchief, another tied over his head under his hat. It was the very ghost of Sikes. “The papers say Getin’s took,” said he. “Is it true?”
“True.”
The pair fell silent.
“Have you nothing to say to me?”
Nobody spoke.
“Do you mean to sell me or let me lie here until the hunt is over?”
“You may stop here,” Fuckit replied.
“Is the body buried?”
They shook their heads as Bates entered the room, falling back as he saw Sikes.
“Don’t you know me Charley?”
“Stay back you monster!”
They looked at each other until Sikes’ eyes sank to the ground.
“I’ll not stay here with you. I’ll send you down myself.” With that Bates leapt on Sikes, landing one blow after another. The contest was unequal and Sikes had him down in no time. He leapt up in alarm when he heard the tramp of hurried footsteps outside before a knocking came at the door.
“He’s here!” cried Bates. “Break down the door!”
“Damn you!” cried Sikes, throwing up the sash on the window and waving his cock at the crowd. “I’ll cheat you yet!” He took up a rope from the corner of the room and hurried to the top of the house. He tied the rope to the chimney stack and made a running noose with his hands, hoping to drop down into the ditch below and run for his life in the confusion. At the moment of bringing the loop over his head prior to slipping it under his arm he slipped and fell, tumbling over the parapet. He fell for thirty feet before there was a jerk, a convulsion of his limbs and there he hung, swinging lifeless against the wall.
Chapter 51
The events of the last chapter were but two days old when Olivia travelled towards her native town. “See there,” she said to her travelling companions. “There is the stile I came over. There the hedges I crept behind. There was the house where I spent my early years.”
As they rode through the town, Olivia took in the sights. There was Semenbally’s brothel, smaller than she remembered it. There was the public house and the whorehouse. They drove on to the chief hotel to enjoy dinner.
After this they entered a side room and there was Spunks. “This is a painful task,” said Mrs Downlow. “But these declarations must be repeated for you all.”
“Don’t keep me here,” said Spunks. “Get on with it.”
“This girl,” said Mrs Downlow, setting her arm around Olivia, “is your stepbrother, illegitimate child of Edwin Leeford to Agnes Fleming who died in childbirth. She was born in the workhouse here. Speak on Spunks.”
“Listen then,” returned Spunks. “Her father being ill was joined by my mother in Rome and found him dying. Once gone she found two papers addressed to Downlow. In the first was a letter to Agnes and the other was a will. The letter explained to the girl that she should not hate his memory and reminded her of the locket and ring he’d sent.”
“And the will?”
“The will talked of you and your mother, each left an annuity of eight hundred pounds. The rest went between Agnes and her child, but only if the child were not stained with public dishonour or wrong. My mother burnt the will and hid the letter.”
Mrs Downlow took up the thread. “Years after this, Spunks’s mother came to me after he stole her money and fled to London. She wished to recover him but she died before it could be done. Spunks blamed innocent Olivia for her death and vowed to vent upon her the hatred he felt by dragging her to very foot of the gallows. Getin was offered a large reward for keeping Olivia ensnared. As to the locket and ring?”
“I bought them from those who stole them from the nurse who stole them from the corpse,” answered Spunks.
In was pushed Mr Bummer and his good lady wife. “Oh is that little Olivia?” said Mr Bummer. “I’ve been grieving for you my girl.”
“Silence,” snapped Mrs Downlow. “Do you know this man?”
“No,” said the former beadle, echoed by his wife.
“Neither of you sold him anything?”
“No.”
“Not a locket or ring?”
Here were brought in two palsied women. “We heard you the night Sally died,” said the first.
“We saw you take the paper from her hand and saw you go on to the pawnbroker’s the next day,” added the second. “We saw you retrieve a locket and gold ring.”
“Shall we go on?” asked Mrs Downlow.
“If Spunks has spunked,” said Mrs Bummer, “I have nothing to add. What of it?”
“Nothing,” replied Mrs Downlow,” except you shall never be employed in a situation of trust again.”
Chapter 52
The court was paved from floor to roof as Getin was held in the dock. Guilty was exclaimed and she was sentenced to death. Her last night was spent in the condemned cell and here she thought hard in silence, dwelling on the past.
At length the cell was opened and Olivia walked in beside Mrs Downlow. “You have some papers given you by Spunks,” said Mrs Downlow.
“I haven’t a one.”
“On the verge of death tell us where they are.”
“I shall not, me who is to die without a final orgasm.”
Mrs Downlow sighed, lowering herself to her knees and lifting Getin’s prison attire to expose her pussy. She fingered the convict as the convict had been fingered by her life of crime, hard and long until she reached an orgasm of great strength. Only then would she whisper into Olivia’s ear that the papers laid in the chimney breast in his old dwelling place.
After that Getin was left alone until morning, brought out to observe the waiting crowd and before all the dark cluster of objects, the black
stage, the cross beam, the rope and all the hideous apparatus of death.
Chapter 53
What remains will take little time to tell. Olivia was left with three thousand pounds, Spunks the same amount. The knave took his share to the New World and soon squandered it, dying at last in prison.
Mrs Downlow adopted Olivia as her common law wife, residing together in their home in the country.
Tit received a pardon for speaking out against Getin and became an informer alongside Charlotte.
Mr and Mrs Bummer became paupers in the very workhouse they once ran.
Charley Bates gave up his life of crime and took to honest work with a passion, he is now the merriest grazier in the land.
Within the altar of an old village church is a white tablet which bears only AGNES upon it and so our tale is done.
Carol Christmas
Chapter 1
Marlene was dead: to begin with. There can be no doubt about that. Carol Christmas signed the register of her burial in the presence of the clergyman and the undertaker and Carol’s name was good upon exchange for anything she might choose to put her hand to. It bears repeating for emphasis. Marlene was as dead as a batteryless metal dildo.
I don’t mean that I know what is especially dead about a dildo. I might be inclined to regard a coffin nail as the deadest piece of ironmongery in the world but I am not an expert in simile, merely in erotic tales and poor quality puns.
Carol knew she was dead. Of course she did. How could she not? They had been partners for who knows how many years. Carol was her sole executor, sole mourner and sole friend. Even she was not so cut up by the death to prevent herself conducting business acquiring a new whore on the day of the funeral, solemnising it with an undoubted bargain of the woman joining the business for less than a shilling.
The mention of Marlene’s funeral brings me to the point worth repeating, it cannot be in doubt that she was dead. This must be understood or the story is not worth telling. If Hamlet’s lover were not dead before the play began, there would be nothing remarkable when she appeared on his ramparts in the dead of night.