Mr Stephenson’s Fucking Machine Pt 4
Georges equipment attracts the attention of Prostitutes and Nuns and then he is persuaded to make a left handed version.
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Ada Monckton was a woman to be feared, a colossus of womanhood only five feet tall but reputedly twenty stone, and as leader of the Gateshead and Heaton branch of the Pubic Sector Workers Union her wrath was legendary.
Woe betide the Gentleman who failed to pay the agreed rate for services of a carnal nature, or who abused in some way not previously agreed any union member and woe betide the loose woman taking up the trade of prostitute to the detriment of paid up Union members.
Fat and ugly she may have been but within her thick balding disease raddled skull lived one of the weakest intellects ever found on Tyneside, coupled with a mule like stubbornness and a vocabulary which would make a Fishwife blush, she got prostitutes a bad name
Ada led the march, up the muddy road to George Stephensons works, “Smash the Fucking Machines” the posters were supposed to say but “Smas the Fukklink Massings” was one of the more legible attempts.
George Stephenson was woken by Ernie Higglethwaite sounding Scramsby Main Colliery Hooter as women passed and he peered from the window to see the procession still a mile away.
“Best get up lass” he urged his new wife Fanny.
“Geordie, I haven’t had a fuck yet, come back to bed” she replied.
“No Lass its prostitutes, they are revolting”
“Yes and diseased ” she agreed.
“No lass protesting, that gurt fat Monckton tart, coming this way”
George rushed to the workshop where he found one of his Class b double acting six inch stroke twenty five p.s.i Steam Fucking machines still in steam simmering from the previous night, when the Vicar’s wife had tested it, he pumped the bellows and added some small lumps of coal and as he watched the steam pressure rose.
He strode out to meet the protesters.
“There he is, he wants to ruin us girls”
“Shut yer fat face Ada, Fucking Machine could never replace you, they cost two thousand guineas and you charge two pennies.”
Ada struggled with the figures.
“Three on Saturday nights,” she corrected.
“Tell thee what, come in and see one and, yes bring that girl with no shoes on with thee and then see if I am talking bollocks, meanwhile there must be some ale about somewhere, I’ll get Bessie to find some.”
Ada was surprised, she realised she did not actually know what a Fucking machine did but she earned her money fucking, well from Union Subs actually, and so it was a threat to her wages.
Ada walked slowly through the door.
“This is it, now I’ll pay sixpence if this charming young lady will allow me to demonstrate.” George stated as Ada interupted.
“Two pennies, Union rate is Two Pennies.”
“All right two pennies, now take your knickers off and sit down here.”
“I can’t sir” whined the girl.
“Why not?” he queried.
“I ain’t got no knickers sir”
“Just sit then, now this goes up yer, you know inside.”
“Please sir I just takes money and run away, I never done that sir”
“You evil girl” Ada clouted her heavily with her huge fist, “Them like you gets whores a bad name”
Ada grabbed the brass fitting and thrust it brutally inside the girls privates.
“Eh lass are you all reet?” George asked with concern.
“Course she is, like a pig in muck, gerron we it” Ada cooed charmingly.
George connected the connecting rod to the flywheel, turned it through two full turns to check all was well and strapped the girls feet to the machine.
“Turn that valve Ada, while I turn flywheel”, George ordered he turned the flywheel, Ada turned the valve and it started, Hiiisss, Pock Hiiss, Pock, Hiss, Pock, Hiss.Pock
“Aaahhh, OOOh, eeeehhh, Oh its lovely Mr Stephenson, You must try it Mrs Monckton, Oooh,” The girl was enjoying herself and getting paid at same time.
“So how do it fuck men?”
“It don’t Ada, it’s for women”
“Bugger we come for nothing,” Ada realised.
“You can have a go if thee wants, I got twenty here all told so if we gets them all going you lot can take turns” George suggested.
“They need one of these at the nunnery” the girl announced as George stopped the machine to let her off,
“My sister is always getting a busted off candle stuck up her since she became a nun” she continued.
“Yer a bright girl, how about you join team as sales lass, do demonstrating and that?” George sugested.
“Hey, Stephenson, I paid her mam eighteen shillings and six for her,” Howled Ada.
“Here have a Guinea,” George tossed her a small coin,
“Now gee us hand with machines.” he continued.
“Am I got job then mister?” the girl asked.
“Yes lass, what yer called,”
“Bloody Kid usually.”
“I’ll call you Nicola on account you got no knickers, Knickerless get it?”
She shot him a glance that could have killed at twenty paces.
The activity in the yard became frenzied, the desultory interest in the steam cuntraptions changed to excitement and impatience to try the machines as one by one they were brought out and brought to the boil, ready for use.
The Vicar wife sought out Ada.
“How much is subs for union?” she enquired.
“Fuck off you’re Vicar’s wife, not Tart.” suggested Ada.
“I want job as tester” she explained,
“Ten Shillings.” said Ada grumpily.
“I can’t afford that.”
George heard, and handed her a Guinea.
“Have two years”
“Years be buggered, that were life membership,” trilled Ada.
George worked late into the night, borrowing farm carts to take the exhausted women home and that night all around Tyneside men despaired of finding a street woman and reluctantly took pleasure with their wives, leading to a sudden surge in Baptisms ten months later.
Goerge kept Nicola back, he asked Bessie and Fanny to give her a bath and supervised a few of Lads from dayshift at pit as they worked into the night to put the fully tested Fucking Machines back in store.
“Mr Stephenson, come quick,” Bessie wailed.
“We got trouble, drain’s blocked.”
He hurried to the house where a two tone naked Nicola awaited him.
“We done her bottom half then when we went to change water it were so muddy we blocked drain,” Bessie wailed.
“I see problem,” asserted George poking a piece of wire down the plug hole and with a great slurp the foul water was gone.
“Lor blimy sir I’m as white as her ladyship,” Nicola observed in amazement.
“I thought t’were suntan not shit,” agreed George, his prick stiffening.
“Yes and you have not fucked me today at all have you?” chided Fanny.
“No Lass, sorry Lass, lets do it while Bath is filling,” and George unbuttoned his Breeches lifted Fannys skirt and gently tearing her bloomers off her entered her as she stood against the wall.
“Mr Stephenson, please” shouted Bessie covering her face with her hands, but leaving a gap between fingers to watch through.
“Mr Stephenson, please” trilled Nicola.
“No he is all mine” insisted Fanny guessing Nicola wanted a go as she bounced up and down, his huge shaft stretching her to her utmost.
“You tore my bloomers,” complained Fanny.
“It was your idea to wear them” observed George.
“You are working class now missus!”
She thought of Arthur, Lord Maplethorpe, the stuck up prat with an appendage more appropriate to a Stoat than a Man she had so nearly married, and smiled as George slowly withdrew form her leaving her feeling satisfied, at least until proper bedtime.
“Thee wants to get a Fong,” said Bessie.
“Wassa Fong” asked Fanny.
“Tiny little knickers they Burmanese wear, Archie Fong used to try to flog em a while back from stall in market, he had canvas and silk all colours, out there bloomers is too hot yet the needs summat to hide them twat if ’em falls ass over tit in Jungle.” Bessie was clearly an expert.
“I’ll just leave them off” giggled Fanny.
George returned to the Workshop and they turned their attention to Nicola once again, scrubbing her upper body and thoroughly washing her hair.
Bessie took Nicola’s filthy rags to wash and she found herself sitting naked on the bed while Fanny slowly combed her long Auburn hair with a long handled brass inlaid Mahogany hair brush.
“Can I borrow the brush please” asked Nicola and as Fanny agreed she grabbed it and thrust the handle between her legs.
“Oh I needed that,” she cooed.
“Here let me,” Fanny kissed her cheek and started to slowly wank her with the brush.
“Oh Madam, that’s so nice, I am such a lucky girl.”
Nicola started work next morning, wearing ill fitting clogs and a clean but threadbare dress she went round to the Convent, saying she were interested in joining as she could not find a Husband.
The Mother Superior saw her at once.
“You are very clean girl!”
“Thank you Mam”
“Are you a Prostitute?” she enquired.
“I takes money and runs away” Nicola stated.
“Ah, I see, you must be punished, and repent truly before we proceed further”
“Yes Mam”
“So undress and bend over that rail”
Nicola hoisted thee dress over her head and knelt with her arse in the air. Swish splat the whip stung her backside.
“Hey”
And again, eleven more times.
Nicola sobbed.
“Come here child” the Mother superior ordered, she explored Nicola’s sex with her fingers.
She continued.
“We are brides of the Lord and must be ever ready for his ministrations, the Lord must never find us dry and unreceptive if once again he wishes his son to be born among us, do you understand child”
“No” Nicola admitted.
“You yourself are aroused, and receptive to the lord, here these will help”
She slid brass clamps over the girls erect nipples and tightened the screws, sensations, part pain, part pleasure, confused the girl.
“You are a bloody odd lot, any road sod this for a lark,” Nicola spoke with commendable eloquence, and continued.
“So unless you want’s a Steam Fucking machine or three at Two thousand guineas apiece I will bugger off while I can still walk.”
“My dear chid, there is no such thing as a Steam Fucking machine,” she grasped the girl’s arm and roughly pushed her through a door and along a short corridor.
A door opened into a long chamber where a monstrous crankshaft with fourteen pairs of connecting rods serving twenty eight penetrators at twenty eight seats slowly revolved.
“That my child is a fucking machine. We pipe the water from upstream and feed it through a waterwheel and it has sufficed for nearly three hundred years.” the Mother Superior boasted.
“Bit bloody slow innit” queried Nicola.
“We are Ladies of the cross not bloody doe rabbits you stupid little bitch, I mean my child.” The Mother Superior continued, “What do you mean slow”
“Steam Fucker is ten times faster than that.”
“Don’t lie in the house of god, child.”
“It does 60 thrusts per minute, in and out.”
“Child, we shall proceed forthwith to expose the untruth of your assertations.”
She rang a small bell very loudly. An ugly old trout in a Cassock stuck her fissog round the door.
“You wanted summat?” she queried.
“Sister Capricious, pray saddle my mule and have the Sisters presently meditating join us on our odyssey.”
The little procession walked slowly from the Convent following the fat lazy mule,
“Forgive them Father for they have Sinned, Glory be to the Father,” spake the Mother Superior, as they left town changing to. “Its about time they lazy bastards filled in pot holes and seeing a farm hand stripped to the waist, my god he’s gorgeous, I would not mind breaking all my vows with him.” as they proceeded into the Country.
George was again alerted by Scramsby Main hooter and the looked down the track to see the approaching throng, he rushed to the workshop and raised steam on the engine in the test bay.
The Mother Superior knocked on the Stephenson’s workshop door. “Good morning Mr Stephenson, I am given to understand you are manufacturing a machine to provide simulated copulation.” she announced as George peered through the spy hole.
He opened the door “Well Madam don’t know about that I only makes Fucking Machines”. The Nuns swept past into the workshop area.
“That’s not a Fucking Machine that’s a six inch stroke portable steam pump with an extra rod or two, we had them in Pit when I were on game.” The Mother Superior shut up sharpish as she realised she had said too much.
“Modified to serve as a fucking machine” added George.
“Hop on and demonstrate Nicola please.” he requested.
“Oh thank you sir.” Nicola beamed.
“Make sure she is moist, then insert the Penetrator,” Instructed George gently parting Nicola’s lower lips and entering the polished brass penetrator piston within her.
“Put the clevis pin through to fix it to connecting rod like so, ” He continued, “then fit new split pin to hold it, ease it through two full turns to make sure she can take it all and then turn steam valve and ease it over the dead centre like this.” he turned the flywheel.
Hisssss, Pock, Hissss, Pock, Hisss, Pock. The Geordie gathered speed.
“You wanton trollop, you are enjoying being abused, verily that is no penance. we shall leave instantly” spake the Mother Superior.
“Not till I had a fucking go we wont.” Sister Capricious spoke, “I know about you and the window cleaner.”
“Sister I paid you very well to keep that secret” Mother Superior blushed bright red.
“Oh yes yes yes fucking yes,” Cried Nicola.
“That’s a real penance, murmured a small nun in the crowd, Come Sisters we must away.”
“All are equal in the sight of the Lord and we ain’t going till we has a go” Sister Capricious put her foot down.
“Very well then, do you do a penetrator in Gold Plate Mr Stephenson.?”
“No plate might peel off, solid gold with a brass core should be easy enough, pricey though.” he replied.
“Very well I shall test this myself, when that strumpet has finished,” the Mother Superior announced.
Nicola slid from the machine and George washed the egg shaped penetrator in warm soapy water as the Mother Superior sat at the machine.
She raised her robe and George stared in amazement at the array of gold rings through her labia and her clit from many of which precious stones dangled.
“Sorry, It ain’t safe Missus. not with all this junk there, might get caught in mechanism”. George apologised.
“No, you must, I can’t” she blustered.
“Cut the bastards out you can’t abandon me, please” she wailed in a most un-nun like manner.
And George set to work with pliers and a fine file to remove the finery and soon her cunt was as God intended, but much wetter, George inserted the penetrator but feeling excess play he reached for the tool kit, Fanny had suggested he make larger versions for any old slappers, and they had measured up next doors Donkey and Farmer Frisson’s prize Bull, for the Donkey and Prize Bull size options he intended to supply with the de luxe version.
The largest version the Ultra Donkey had simply been a joke but George was astonished to see and feel it slide tightly inside this supposed Virgin.
“Oh Mr Stephenson, there truly is a heaven.” she whispered as he turned the mechanism slowly to make sure she could take it all, then he cracked open the steam valve and slackened the governor nut for 10 RPM, Hiiiissss, such Pock, Hiiiisss, such, Pock.
“That’s about the maximum your water power engine can manage.” he announced,
He continued “I will bring it to 30 rpm. Half speed, Hissss, Pock Hissss, Pock, and 45, this is about enough with the heavy penetrator.
“Uggghh Ah, God” The Nun was in a dream world of her own.
George twiddled the spanner “60 RPM, normal for lighter penetrators, and Max is 120 really but it wears the big end, so try 90.”
Hiss, Clang, Hiss, Clang, Hiss, Clang. something was wrong, the whole machine jumping from the floor with each stroke and liquid escaping.
“I got a leak”
“It’s her cunt juice you fool, that or she pissed herself” suggested sister Capricious tactfully.
The Mother superior flopped as in a daze as George slowed the machine.
“We will have three, with Gold fittings,” she announced before she fainted from excess pleasure.
Later after the last Nun had received her penance from the machine and they sat in Georges Lounge eating Chicken, prepared to the Army secret recipe which Arthur Cleghorn’s friend Col Saunders of the Gateshead Militia had lent them, and drinking Newcastle Brown ale, except Sister Capricious who would not touch the devil’s own brew preferring bottled water, distilled in Scotland, the deal was done four engines for price of three but they would do demonstrations for any other Convents.
The Nuns returned to the convent and the frustration of a ten strokes per minute water wheel, and after a good night and some sleep Fanny and George set about making money, Fanny travelling to Heaton to order a hundredweight of Gold and George set to work on the batch of engines for the Nuns.
Fanny returned from shopping in Heaton village with Bessie, upset and disconcerted.
“Mr Lloydd would not take our money, in his bank, says it’s too much risk.”
George saddled the mule and they returned to the village, suddenly he had an idea, the Estate Agent’s, he looked at the board, coal mine, row of houses, unfinished Mansion and at the bottom, Lord Maplethorpe’s mansion.
“How much is this lot?” queried George.
“Which one would sir be referring to” slimed the yes man in the hand me down suit two sizes too small.
“Bloody lot man, Job lot like, how much, Oh except bottom one.”
“Piss off, you ‘ent got that much cash” said the slime-ball as his eyes widened as George hauled the biggest bag of cash he had ever seen from under his Jacket.
“S,Seven h,hundred and Thirty Six pounds Eighteen Shillings and three Pence three farthings.” he stammered.
“Cash” George reminded him.
“Seven” said the slime-ball.
George frowned at him.
“Six fifty then,” the slime-ball offered.
“Sign papers then love, I am off to see his Lordship.” George ordered counting the cash out on to the counter.
Maplethorpe was distraught, his mother the Dowager had left the ancestral home and moved in with his valet since she had discovered sex at the age of fifty courtesy of a Stephenson Fucking Machine at Arthur Clegghorns new unfinished red brick Mansion, and what with losing his betrothed to Stephenson and then finding Stephenson owned the Mortgages on his estate he decided to sell up and run.
His world collapsed as Stephenson arrived.
“Doing a runner, Arthur?”
Lord Arthur broke down, Sobbing.
“It’s all gone wrong, Mother stole my Valet you stole my Fanny now I have no one.”
“Thee allus was a Pillock. there’s plenty more women.”
“I don’t want a Woman I want a Man, a real Man.”
George had heard of these left handed people but thought folk were joking.
“What thee gets roggered up thee ass-hole for pleasure?”
“Not the phrase I would use, but yes”
“What about an ass-hole Fucking machine?”
“No, such a thing has not been invented!”
“Tell thee what, you come over my place tomorrow and we’ll bloody invent one, ’bout, eleven, Fanny likes a long slow fuck in the mornings.”
And so it was born, and working together as a team George and Lord Arthur Maplethorpe invented the Maplethorpe Gentleman’s Companion, a conversion kit for the Stephenson “Geordie” Fucking machine to facilitate the usage by a person kneeling before the machine with rectum raised, a separate slide bar assembly on triangular brackets raised the axis of operation up to eighteen inches above the Geordies range intended as it was for useage by a lady seated on the floor immediately in front of the machine.
George and Arthur worked late into the night and the machine was equally efficacious for such ladies as preferred their penetration from behind, and with a slight adjustment front or rear orifice could be used with equal facility, Arthur diligently tested each iteration and modification the flywheel whizzing round and the shaft pumping in and out of his ass-hole, but soon they realised the raised centre of Gravity was a major problem, and ideas of conversions were forgotten and the Maplethorpe we know today with its wide rectangular water tank base and direct acting cylinder adjustable from 6 to 24 inches above ground level with an integral boiler was perfected.
George allowed Maplethorpe to stay on at Gribblesdyke Manor as Manager as they converted most of it to a Fucking Machine manufactory and George kept out of the marketing of the Maplethorpe, he admitted only that Lord Maplethorpe had paid to use his patents but soon up and down the land Military establishments, Gentleman’s clubs and Monasteries were snapping them up as fast as they could build them.
The Vicar’s wife still tested the machines from George’s works from the woman’s perspective but while very pleasurable she preferred the simpler “Geordie” but she made the observation that it would be nice to lie back in bed and get shafted.
George Immediately grabbed a piece of slate and chalk and designed the bell crank assembly for the Geordie IBF (In bed fucker), the operating arm appearing through a slot in the mattress, which many lazy cows have found so efficacious over the years.
And so within three months of marriage George had made friends with his rivals, his order books were so full he had to get parts made in Birmingham, despite them being soft southerners and not trustworthy, he had to sub-contract his mining industry business, and to cap it all Fanny asks George if he would mind fucking Nicola as she was worried he might crush her unborn baby.
And so George and Nicola thoroughly tested Frenchman Monsieur Alain Du Rex’s patent pigs intestine penis cover for the prevention of Clap and Children, which were useless as they could only be used about three times before they split.
“What use is a cover you could only use twice? you would have to sell them in packs of three,” complained George, “And them spoils the feeling”
To be Continued ?
Probably Not