The Upper Floof
I was minding my own business in my club, on the upper floor you understand, the one reserved for gentlemen. I was relaxing after dinner, reading the evening newspaper. Whiling away the time until supper, It was the year the Titanic sank, 1912.
Leather chairs and oak panels, the smell of tobacco heavy on the air, talk of the Kaiser and of impending war were rife around the tables as our hostesses catered to our every need.
Milly, Molly, Moira, Melissa, Mary, their names all started with an M. They looked quite demure despite uniforms cut to ensure their charms were always displayed. Neatly corseted waists with their breasts upthrust yet bared and unrestrained. Tight black jackets with silver buttons cut to slip under their pouting mammaries. The area below their waists entirely bare but for the tapes holding their stockings. Their soft downy Pubes neatly trimmed or shaved.
Gold Nipple and Clitoris rings twinkled in the firelight. Fish net stocking with seams arrow straight set off pale elegant thighs and calves while their painted toe nails peeped from elegant high heeled shoes. Neat little rabbits tails attached to little plugs pressed firmly up their tight bottoms and all set off by jaunty little hats with necklaces rings and earrings dripping with jewels. And all ready to perform each and any service we may require.
The flotsam and jetsom of the gutters attired like princesses.
Their services were provided all inclusive to the membership of the upper floor of the club. Mouth, back passage and womb alike available to any member’s member and all bar mouth available to a members finger or tongue though of course shows of affection such as kissing upon the mouth were not allowed
They worked in relays, obviously Milly Molly et al were not their real names, but we no more cared who they were than they cared who we were. A crooked finger, a gesture and they would saunter across and if indicated would straddle us and simply sink down upon our members. Or suckle a limp snake to rigidity, or bring an ice cold beer or liqueuras our whim dictated..
Sometimes they got it wrong, one elderly gentleman admitting, “Ye gods I only wanted a Whisky,” as Malia extracted his member from his fly and began to suck.
But enough background detail, back to this most particular evening.
“Oldbury, where are you?” one of my chums asked.
“Here? Why?” I replied.
“Need another damned fool to play cards,” he said drunkenly.
“At your service,” I agreed and taking my whiskey I dutifully went across and sat at the table.
The game was poker, Club rules, Aces High.
Millie the croupier smiled, as she waited to deal the cards. Her left thumb rested within the folds of her quim pleasuring herself as all the girls were instructed to do while idling. Her bared breasts with golden rings swung alluringly to and fro as she rocked gently to her own rhythm as she quietly drifted into a world of her own as she frigged herself towards orgasm.
“Teddy’s in a spot of bother,” Simmonds gloated.
“Bet his damned house and lost!” Carter laughed.
“And?” I enquired.
“I don’t need a damned house,” Clearwater sighed, “Bit of a bugger really.”
“So lets us get this straight, you won Teddy’s house and don’t want it?” I queried.
“Absolutely, rotting pile,” he agreed.
“So give it back,” I suggested.
“Not that easy old chum, Club rules.” Simmonds pointed out, “Needs outside player to win it then Teddy can win it back do you see?”
“You’re a bloody fool Teddy,” I said, as looked at the broken shell of a man that fifty years of idleness drinking and gambling had created. “Deal me in.”
Teddy, 4th Earl of Latchmere, Lord GlenAvon and various other titles was several social classes above my lowly station yet many thousands of guineas poorer.
I may have been brought up as the local parson’s son but t’was well known I was the Lord of the Manor’s bastard and had his cunning and business acumen. As well as a talent for cards.
I looked at my cards.
“I’ll bet two shillings,” Clearwater said throwing Teddy’s note for the house on the table.
“I’ll raise all in,” I said and Clearwater folded.
I took the note.
“Thank God!” Teddy sighed.
“Not so fast,” I insisted, “I fear you need to learn a lesson, what collateral shall you offer?”
Teddy looked aghast, “I have none.”
“Three unmarried daughters,” Simmonds laughed.
“Very well offer one as your stake,” I insisted.
“Good god man, don’t be an oaf,” Teddy snapped.
“Well sir I am a bastard by birth, though hardly an oaf,” I suggested, “Which child shall you offer?”
“Oh very well Hilary my youngest.” he agreed reluctantly and somewhat drunkenly.
“The one maudlin who never smiles,” Clearwater enquired.
“Maybe old Oldbury here will fuck a smile into her!” Simmonds laughed.
“Hardly, I shall sell to Madame to defray my expenses,” I explained.
“Turn my daughter into a whore. Never!” Teddy protested.
“Well I shall allow ten days to vacate the house.” I offered.
“Now don’t be hasty, Oldbury,” Clearwater interjected, “Don’t be an oaf just fold.”
“No Teddy needs a lesson,” I insisted, “I’ll exchange my house for the daughter whom I shall sell to madame as a whore.”
“Done!” grinned Teddy, “Never has a man made such a poor bargain!”
I went back to my chair a job well done and a lesson learned.
Clearwater sought me out, “Teddy rigged you,” he confided, “That daughter, Hilary, have you met her? She came out, what, two years ago, not so much as a dance let alone a dallience, tis said she sips at the spring of Lesbos, and I truly believe far from paying for her charms you would have to pay any self respecting chap to fuck her,”
“I just wanted to teach the old fool a lesson,” I explained, “If this so called girl is indeed nineteen summers gone then I’ll just let the matter quietly drop, have a few Whiskeys and forget it.”
But I had not reckoned with the redoubtable Miss Hilary.
She came to my house at noon, I was still in my pyjamas working at my desk.
Mary my maid came to seek me, “There’s some woman downstairs who reckons she’s your whore.”
“What?” I demanded.
“Hilary something or other.” Mary suggested and the aforesaid Hilary burst upon us.
“Father says he sold me to you as your plaything,” she insisted as she stormed into the room.
I stared, she was as far from a whore as one could reasonably get in a female. I would swear she was fresh from forking the dung from the horse stalls. Her hair was a mess where it spewed out from her riding hat, her clothes a filthy brown coat and skin tight riding britches. Her face screwed with anger and hatred.
“No,” I corrected her. “As a whore, a chattel to be used and abused by any as desires it for a modest fee,”
“What!” she snapped.
“A whore to be available to any gentleman who desires her,” I insisted. “That was our agreement. Though desirous gentlemen may be scarce as your countenance would scare a whole tribe of Zulus let alone a shy cultured gentleman.”
“Ha, so no more of this nonsense,” she snorted, “I submit to no man.”
“Submit to none indeed,” I surmised, “I would suggest that on the contrary you are in urgent, nay immediate need of a sound pronging.”
“Well sir it shall not be from you.” she snapped.
“Madam a thousand guineas would not induce me to prong you,” I said flippantly.
“Good, we are agreed,” she agreed.
“So I shall have to pay some guttersnipe or urchin to do the deed in my stead, more expense,” I said shaking my head in resignation.
She went to strike me. I caught her wrist an inch no more from her raking my face with her long filthy finger nails.
She stank of horses, a strangely earthy smell which raised queries in my loins.
“You madam need taming,” I insisted.
“Well it shall not be by you!” she snapped indignantly.
I thought a moment before I replied. “Disrobe this instant or tell your father to vacate my house forthwith.”
“No you cannot!” she replied in horror.
“Submit or the agreement is void!” I challenged.
She stared at me. She shuddered as she realised my resolve.
“Very well,” she said icily and she slipped off her heavy coat.
I hung it on the back of a chair for her as she tentatively undid one of the buttons on her bodice, than a second.
Her fingers trembled, with fear or anger I knew or cared not. The buttons parted and the bodice swelled. Clearly her mounds were much constricted. It caught my attention. My member stirred again.
“Quite delightful allow me,” I said softly as I helped to free her mounds and cupped them in my hands, “It must be such a relief for them to escape their bonds.”
“No!” she said wide eyed but I knew in that instant that she was ripe for the taking. Her teats stiffened and extended.
“Whore’s mounds are ever freed, shall you like that?” I asked.
“No!” she snapped though her resolve was uncertain.
“Swinging as free as the birds. And their cunts, open at all times or plugged with thumb or dildo,” I said in a hoarse menacing whisper. “Available to all.”
“Do not trifle with me!” she said.
Mary my maid looked on disapprovingly, she was no beauty, well past child bearing age but she had a pleasant enough ass to fuck when naught else was offered.
“Shears Mary, let us skin the rabbit.” Mary obediently fetched the large scissors or small shears from the drawer in the side table.
I made an incision into the leggings half way up Hilary’s thigh and started to cut away the coverings. She near froze in fear. A single cut up one leg round the crotch and down the other. Then a single curving cut upwards towards the waist and back down revealing her underwear as the flap of fabric fell away.
Three more snips from the razor sharp blades and the underthings came away and revealed a mass of hairy moist curls and beneath a hairy moistened cunt. My member showed a distinct interest and he uncurled uncomfortably within the constriction of me breeches.
“Do you know I think I will fuck you after all.” I declared. “Mary loosen my belt and lower my breeches if you please.”
Mary reluctantly lowered my breeches and underthings allowing my member to stiffen and straighten as I pushed Hilary against the table.
“Guide my member in Mary if you please.” I requested.
“It ent fair, she don’t want none and gets fucked and I wants it and don’t get none,” Mary muttered as she obediently guided my stiffening member towards Hilary’s pouting quim.
“Later,” I suggested as my member gently parted Hilary’s pouting cunt lips.
“No!” she said but he body said “Yes yes yes,” such was her need for cock and cock juice.
I felt no resistance from her maidenhead, but there were streaks of red afterward so I presume she had been virgo intacta and I enjoyed a distinctly average gallop though at an unexpected time of day, finishing with a flourish or at least nine good spurts of honest low born cock juice in her aristocratic vagina.
“Mary for gods sake bathe this urchin before we take her to Madame.” I ordered as I withdrew.
“What about my portion?” she protested.
“I am afraid you will have to use the rolling pin,” I suggested, “But this time wash it before rolling out the pastry.”
She blushed crimson, “Very well sir.” she agreed.
“Or perhaps you could have this whore learn how to use her fist?” I suggested with a wink.
Hilary jerked back to reality, her body may have swum with excitement but now she faced reality, instead of love she had been fucked as a pass time. I had no more desire for her to drop my offspring than I had to dance the Viennese waltz stark naked at the gates to Buckingham Palace while they changed the guard. I had used her no more. And she had used me.
“Go, get washed,” I said, “I have work to do.”
I found Hilary and Mary an hour or so later. The tin bath was upended on the kitchen floor.
Bathwater spread across the floor towards the drain. Hilary lay naked on the flagstones as she suckled Mary’s massive teats and rhythmically pressed her fist into Marys voluminous cunt. Mary only ever wore a simple smock and she too was near naked as her smock was largely around her neck.
“I shall burn these rags,” I said as I scooped up Hilary’s clothes, but she and Mary were too absorbed with each other to notice.
Brabbinger my Ostler coughed. He had been watching from the shadows. “The young lady’s horse sir?” he queried.
“She’s no Lady, she’s a base whore,” I replied as I watched Hilary pleasuring Mary, “Shall you take a poke?”
“No thank you kindly sir,” he said diffidently. “ I got my pride sir.”
“Well I just poked her,” I said, “Lord knows why.”
“Wiles they has sir, reels you in like,” he says, “Me I likes horses.”
Images raced through my mind, “Quite so.” I agreed, “Feed and water the horse would you, no send word to my club, have a uniform sent and a comforter, take the whore’s horse.” I laughed at my own lapse into poetry, “whore’s horse” indeed.
There is only a finite time one can watch women pleasuring each other especially unattractive ones, so after no more than seven minutes, twelve at the outside, I went about my business.
Brabbinger returned within the half hour with Miss Middleton, one of Madame’s dressers, a weasel faced flat chested crone of around thirty five summers and thirty thousand men, a street whore with nimble fingers an eye for beauty and a talent for fitting corsets, stockings shoes and tail plugs as well as the artists touch which with rouge and powder turns the dullest scullery maid or fattest cook into an object of desire.
“Oh my lord, you want a miracle worker and thats a fact,” Middleton said as she saw Hilary embraced in Mary’s well muscled arms.
“Less of your insolence, bend over I wish to fuck you,” I averred.
“Not if you been fucking that you ent, I got my pride,” Middleton said icily.
She set down her bag and took out a tub of butter. Greasing her fingers and thumb she advanced upon Hilary even as she continued to pleasure Mary and grasped her firmly, one thumb pressed firmly up Hilary’s back passage and the fingers into her quim.
“Ooh,” Hilary gasped.
“I reckon a two inch up her ass and a three up her quim,” Middleton opined as she withdrew her fingers and wiped them on a cloth, “Twenty three inch waist, its like making a silk wedding dress out of a pigs ass,” she said sadly.
“Have some decorum woman!” I snapped.
“Well you ain’t no gentleman are you?” she challenged.
I gave up and walked off.
An hour later and Middleton sought me out, “I done me best,” she said.
Hilary appeared, “My god she looks almost human,” I agreed, “What say you Brabbinger?”
My Ostler was lurking in the shadows as always. Feasting his eyes on Hilary’s now ringed clitoris and shaved pubes now framed by stocking tapes and her ringed teats now upthrust by a tight black corset.
“Don’t mind if I do sir,” he said as he swept from the shadows.
He strode up to the girl and raised his smock revealing short fat hairy legs and a long fat hairy prong, I’ll wager there was more hair on his balls than on a Rabbi’s chin.
I only wanted his agreement that she looked desirable butbhe obviously decided to misunderstand me and to sample her charms instead.
He grasped her firmly and in a trice was Hilary pushed against the study table and he sank his prong within her soft moist quim. His hairy ass bobbled up and down and in and out as he thrust his monster forcibly into her womb.
She barely protested. Her parts were aroused by the rings and the potions applied to her innards by Middleton’s nimble fingers.
“Oh my lord!” she wailed, “I am in heaven!”
Now to be quite honest there is little as dis spiriting as finding one’s servant has a prong unquestionably superior to one’s own both in length and girth and energy, and I turned on my heel and strode away after no more than ten minutes at the outside.
The way he kneaded her breasts and crushed her lips with his lips was quite obscene, while the way she raked his back with her nails was quite uncalled for and the grunts and protestations of love was such to make me nauseous.
Finally as I departed he grunted like a pig and clearly shot his bolt.
“Well done!” Middleton shouted, “Bravo, who knows we may make Madame proud of you yet!”
I sat a while and returned to find Hilary attired in a cloak. which hid her parts. I saw she walked awkwardly.
“Finished already?” I asked Middleton.
“Yes sir, Got her holes plugged and everything.” she replied.
“Show me.” I insisted.
“No!” Hilary snapped, “You don’t own me.”
“Show the gentleman,” Middleton insisted.
Hilary reluctantly raised the cloak showing a stout leather strap secured around her crotch which clearly held quim and anal plugs in place.
“Open her up I wish to sample her,” I ordered.
“Not now after I perfumed and plugged her and everything,” Middleton argued. “You had every opportunity sir and if you desire you can fuck her to your hearts content this eve but for now I must deliver her to Madame before my special gentleman arrives.”
“Special gentleman?” I queried.
“Has me piss on him,” she said proudly, and seeing my discomfiture she added “Well you did ask.”
“Oh be gone,” I sighed.
I followed along to the Club later, after fending off Cooks’ suggestions that her ass was as tight as anyone’s cunt, something demonstrably untrue, and by dinner time I was gorging myself on salt pork and onions washed down by some of the finest wines from the Antipodes.
Hilary was nowhere to be seen when I arrived. It seemed she had become something of a celebrity and every gentleman seemingly had designs on poking her quim.
I decided they could get on with it and settled down to eat my fill.
However seeing Lord Glenavon, Hilary’s father arrive rather the worse for drink gave me an evil notion which I proceeded to put in train.
“Teddy won’t you join me?” I asked as he staggered by, “Need a third for a threesome, new whore needs breaking in don’t cha know.”
“What ho, yes rather, three way eh, top hole.” he stammered out his usual string of cliches and sat down at my table. Milly Molly or some such brought Teddy a platter of pork and he began to guzzle on it greedily.
Hilary had seemingly metamorphosed into Melissa, a bright red ball gag now flilled her mouth, a clear sign of what we called a screamer. A whore who could not prevent herself vocalising her enjoyment.
I sought out Madame. I swiftly arranged to use Hilary/Melissa as soon as she became available.
Teddy was about to start on his apple pie when Madame brought Hilary over.
He barely showed any interest but ordered. “Capital, just straddle me wench and let me ease your quim while I eat my pud there’s a dear.” He unbuttoned his breeches and extracted his rather woebegone tired and uninterested cock from therein.
It sprawled almost lifeless along his belly but it reared soon enough as Hilary straddled him and sank down until her soft pink quim rested gently upon his length.
It reared like an Indian snake charmer’s snake, a veritable python. Spearing upwards towards her innards. It seemed quite bizarre. Teddy about to fuck his own daughter unknowingly.
He reached down and aimed his cock between the lips of her quim. She raised herself then sank down with a contented sigh and a slight dribble from her ball gag. Then she began to hump greedily.
Teddy laughed, “Bally gamekeeper, spitting image of the sod, cuckolded d’ya see?” He explained, “Never was me daughter, should have fucked her years ago.”
I shook my head, I had been bamboozled again. “Going to climb on?” Teddy asked, “Take the tradesman’s, three way and all that?”
“Ah no, I just remembered I have to see old Graithwaite about some business,” I said as Hilary bounced up and down far too energetically on her supposed father’s cock and I left them to their joyous union.
I cursed, far from teaching Teddy a lesson I had learned one myself. I rued my discomfiture and made my way homeward.
Cook hounded me once more seeking a pronging which I was not in any mood to provide so I retired to my bed somewhat frustrated and slept only fitfully.
The morning brought further tribulations.
Hilary’s oldest sister. A weasel faced , wasp waisted spinster completely devoid of female appendages or so it seemed she arrived at some ungodly hour when no gentleman or gentlewoman should be abroad and demanded to see me.
Cook relayed the information that she was downstairs. I looked at my watch. “Ye gods its only ten of the clock!” I protested.
“Shall I send her up sir?” Cook asked, “Or shall you fuck my ass first?”
“No, I think I can manage without,” I answered, “I shall come down straightway.”
“Better put thee britches on first,” she laughed.
“No, damn it, I shall come as I am,” I insisted and down I went in my nightshirt to greet the woman.
“Miss Latchmere?” I queried.
“Rip van winkle I presume?” she replied as she saw I wore only my nightshirt and night hat.
“And what brings you here?” I asked.
“My horse,” she replied sarcastically, “But to be honest I wanted to see exactly what sort of a fool my father has been conniving with.”
“And have you seen?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” she replied, “You surpass my worst expectations by some considerable margin.”
“Have you merely come to insult me or had you some other purpose in mind?” I asked.
“Actually,” she said, “I have, you humiliate my father, prostitute my sister and ruin my chances of making a good marriage.”
“You certainly have a bluntness of speech about you,” I admitted.
“And now having tricked me into your lair you ravish me,” she suggested.
“Madam I should sooner fornicate with a farmyard sow,” I insisted.
“So I understand,” she said, “But I do believe the constable will believe my tale when I scream and say how you tore my clothes and sought to ravish me.”
“Really?” I queried as she tried in vain to tear her dress. “Allow me.”
I grasped the shoulders of her dress and it ripped right down the front, I ripped aside the bindings of her mounds freeing them, “Remind me, did I ravish you or merely attempt to?”
“I care not, make me an offer or I go to the magistrate!” she snapped
“Twenty shillings for your honour!” I offered.
“I meant marriage,” she said, “Dear god are you really this stupid?”
“Stupid yes desperate no,” I confirmed, “Though your teats are most alluring and are roused if I am not mistaken.”
“You are mistaken,” she insisted.
“Your parts are not moistened then?” I queried.
“No more than yours,” she quipped.
I looked down. My member was pressing my nightshirt out like a tent pole.
“I have not had my morning, ah.” I said awkwardly.
“He fucks me ass mostly,” Cook interjected.
“Cook,” I snapped “Go away!”
“Hilary said it was tiny,” Miss Latchmere observed, “But it looks monstrous!”
I sighed, “Shut your rattle and lay for me, then you can show the magistrate your torn clothes and a good creaming within your parts.”
“Very well, where is the bedchamber?” she asked.
“Here on the floor!” I insisted.
“No, bed me, if you want me bed me properly!” she insisted.
“Oh very well,” I sighed in exasperation and I swept her off her feet and carried her upstairs.
How was I to know it was the most romantic gesture she had ever known? The poor girl’s quim was soaking with anticipation and in a moment as soon as had bared it my prong had found a new home.
Her tight virgin cunt gripped my member. “Make love to me!” she pleaded.
“This madam is merely a simple fuck,” I explained as I started to hump her, “Though I own a very agreeable one.”
“Oh that makes me feel so nice,” she said and she smiled.
“Really?” I queried, “Usually women ask if I have finished yet, or make some sarcastic remark.”
“No, its really nice, oh my god, its really nice.” she said as the walls of her virgin cunt instinctively began to milk my cock.
It was all too much and suddenly a great torrent of seed shot from my loins and flooded her entirely.
I lay until I was spent and my member shrank and them rolled onto my back. “Do your worst,” I said and drifted into a contented sleep.
“Take it in your hand like thus,” I heard Cook saying as someone gripped my cock in their hand, “He ent much of a cocksman, one spurt wonder, “ Cook opined, “Still a bit of a suck will probably rouse him.”
“What’s up?” I said.
“Damned constable thinks I’m my sister and that I’m a whore,” Miss Latchmere explained.
“So you are trying seduction?” I queried.
“In a word, yes.” she agreed.
“You are an ageing weasel faced flat chested spinster, why should I take note of you?” I asked.
She thought a moment “Because my eldest boy child shall inherit father’s title, should you not like your son to be the Earl Latchmere, the 5th Baron Latchmere?”
“And?” I queried.
She thought a moment. “My sister is a whore and she can pass on all manner of whorish tricks to keep you satisfied in the bed chamber.”
“Good point,” I agreed, “On your back I wish to fuck you again.”
To be continued.
Or would you like more tales from the upper floor?