“You there, boy!” The woman called.

Thomas jumped in his skin, frantically looking around the soot-covered brick terraces before shyly pointing a grubby, fingerless-gloved digit at himself. It was rare for one so shabby to be called upon even by the lowlifes, let alone a woman who was clearly in service to someone with money. Her black dress and white apron were pristine, done up in the modest style of the era. Her blonde hair was tied up in a neat bun, and she may have looked warm and welcoming if it wasn’t for the harsh sharpness of her features and her piercing gaze.

“Yes, you,” She continued, “Are you scared of tight spaces?”

“Me, ma’am? No! Done a few stints as a chimney sweep, I have,” He said. He was small and skinny. Good for climbing up the narrow passageways, even at his age. Or for thieving things off of windowsills when he had the mind and hunger for it. “‘Course, that was back in me youth. Hard to find someone who’ll take you nowadays-”

“And your breath? How long can you hold it for?”

“My breath? Um, I suppose I could…” He scratched the back of his dirty black hair. In the single second he’d taken his eyes off of her, she’d strolled across the cobblestone street. She towered above him and roughly grasped his chin. Thomas’ heart pounded in his chest, a little colour coming to his cheeks as she turned his face from side to side. God, he didn’t half hate being short.

“Hmm… are you perhaps a girl in disguise?” She said with a small sneer on her face.

“No, ma’am!” He wasn’t that effeminate, surely? Of course, he’d been teased for his pretty face back in the orphanage, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone had mistaken him for a girl. That’s why he made an effort to always be in trousers and a blazer! Even if they were a little rough around the edges. Proper gentleman, or so he tried to be. He’d even had the hat once before that bugger the Dodger had nicked it. He grimaced as the woman wiped away a smudge on his cheeks with a handkerchief.

“Tell me… ‘boy’,” She said with a smirk, “Would you be interested in a job?”

“Well… that’d depend on the job, wouldn’t it?” He rubbed his chin; he could still feel the icy grip. “‘ Course, the pay is also a big factor…”

“Would a crown be enough to pique your interest?” She said, holding up the silver coin.

Thomas’ jaw nearly dropped off completely. Five shillings? That’d buy him a fortnight’s worth of food if he were careful!

“Well, I suppose I might be interested…” He said to his feet, “What kind of work were you looking for?”

“Lady Abberton requires a pole-shiner. I trust you understand what is expected of you?”

“‘ Course I do!” He lied, “Fastest and finest shiner in all of London, I am.”

Her smirk only seemed to grow, bringing even more color to his cheeks. Had he been sussed already? “So, um… how many hours for the crown?”

“If you really are the fastest, then it won’t take more than half an hour,” She said, “Although, my lady’s pole is most certainly large enough to warrant extra care.”

Half an hour for a crown? This deal was starting to sound a bit off. And what kind of pole needed a regular shining anyway? He’d heard stories of too-tempting jobs gone wrong. One of his mates had vanished after some lout had gone round offering six-pence five-minutes of work. Found him floating in the Thames a week or so later with his throat smashed in. But if this was a proper job… well, Thomas couldn’t afford to turn it down, could he? Especially not with how empty his belly had been the last few days. He licked his lips and made a big show of thinking things over.

“Well… I suppose I could be persuaded,” He said.

“If you are interested, then I’m sure you’ll find your way to my lady’s stately home,” The woman said, turning on her heel and striding off back down the street, “Do try not to keep her waiting.”

“I’ll be there lickity split!” He called.

“Lickity?” She said, followed by a short, barking laugh, “How appropriate…”

Thomas watched her leave. More specifically, watching the sway of her hips as she strutted away. She was a bit severe and haughty, but from behind she didn’t look so bad. Maybe working beside her wouldn’t be such a pain in the arse. And if he were lucky, the lady herself might be a looker too. He grinned to himself, straightening out his jacket. Lady Abberton, hmm?

It took him all of a half-hour to pry the location out of his mates. None of them had ever been employed before, but they had heard some seriously good things about the lady of the manor. Proper bird, with a figure that spilt out of her dress, or so they said. When he’d told them about the job offer, they’d laughed and whooped. One of them suggested he try to turn on the charm, make like one of the rogues from a penny-dreadful. Thomas had laughed that one off, but there wasn’t anything wrong with a strapping lad having dreams, now was there?

He stood outside the manor, rocking back and forth on his heels. It was small and square, but still three times as wide as the poorer terraces. Two floors, with an attic window that jutted out the center of the roof. Grey stone with wrought iron fences boarding a small, neatly kept garden of rose bushes and tall hedges. He dusted himself off a little and rapped a knuckle against the black painted door. A few moments later it opened to reveal a wrinkled old face framed by patchy white hair; the butler, no doubt.

“Can I… help you?” He said with no small amount of contempt.

“Yes, sir! Is this the house of one Lady Abberton?”

“It is indeed. Do you have an appointment?”

“Not per se… one of her servants told me she was looking for a shiner, see?”

“Shiner…? Oh, yes. You must be the urchin Rosalyn was talking about,” A little smile played on the old man’s face, “Do come in. She will escort you.”

“Thank you kindly, sir,” Thomas dipped his head and wandered inside. He couldn’t help but let out a low whistle as he looked around the assortment of expensive art pieces hanging on walls and atop the polished wooden dressers that lined the corridor. Lady Abberton clearly had money.

“So glad you could make it,” Said Rosalyn, the servant woman, as she emerged from another room. Thomas gave her a polite bow, and she smiled knowingly at him. She curtseyed back and made her way up the central staircase. Thomas looked back at the butler. He was smirking as he closed the door and disappeared into a parlor. Something was starting to nag at the back of Thomas’ mind.

“Now, my lady prefers her shining to be as hands-on as possible,” Rosalyn said as they ascended, “No shortcuts or lazy work.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, ma’am,” Thomas said.

“You are to hold your tongue, of course, unless my lady specifically asks for it.”

“It’s only polite, after all,” Although he did think that was an odd way of phrasing it.

“And do not forget the base.”

“I swear, I shan’t!”

“You’re quite the fast learner, aren’t you?” Rosalyn said.

“Faster learner than I am a shiner! And that’s saying something, that is.”

She chuckled. “My Lady will be more than pleased with your work, I’m sure.”

The two of them reached the second floor, drawing up to another black painted door. Rosalyn knocked twice and waited, entering after a rich, almost sultry voice called them in. The room was fancier than anything Thomas had ever dreamed; lace and filigree on every surface, pictures and expensive knick-knacks across every shelf, and even a fur rug across the polished wooden floor. A fire burnt in one corner, making the room stuff and hot. The four-poster bed seemed to barely take up any room at all despite its size, long regally red and gold curtains falling around it to match the equally red painted walls. It was on the border between opulent and tacky; clearly belonging to someone with too much wealth and just enough taste.

A figure rose from the bed, and Thomas sucked in a breath. The gossip about Lady Abberton was right; even though the black dress she wore was high-collared and form-fitting, she still seemed as if she was about to spill out of it. The corset pushed up her already ample breasts, the layers of ruffles on her skirt not so much hiding as exaggerating the curve of her hips. Her face was mature and beautiful, her lips painted a vivid scarlet. A choker wrapped about her slender neck and her eyes… those eyes were sharp and cruel, like a hawk looking for prey. Her smile playful like a cat with a mouse.

“And who is this young man?” She said, looking Thomas up and down.

“The shiner you requested, my lady. The best in all of London, or so he says,” Rosalyn replied. She gently pushed Thomas forward, and he suddenly remembered to breathe.

“Really? I suppose I’ll be the judge of that,” She said, her smirk growing. Rosalyn nodded to her and left, closing the door behind her and leaving Thomas to stare up at the statuesque woman before him, “Tell me, how do you intend to do your job?”

“The shining?” He said, snapping out of his stupor, “Well… I suppose the old spit-shine would do the trick.”

“My… how very appropriate,” She chuckled. Maybe she would warm up to him after all!

“So…” Thomas said as casual as his libido would let him, “Where is this pole, then?”

“You don’t see it?”

Thomas looked around the room. “I don’t see anything obvious, begging your pardon.”

“Because you’re looking in the wrong place,” She said. She gripped her skirts and gently pulled them tight against her body. Or, most of it. Because the ruffles all caught on something; something very hard, and protruding out of her just below hip height.

Thomas’ eyes widened. Before he had time to react, her hands were on his shoulders, and she’d forced him down to his knees, a cruel smile across her face. The bulge hovered just in front of him, making his cheeks redden as his brain pieced together what could be hiding there. His suspicions were confirmed when she roughly smacked his face with it; through the fabric, he could feel the warmth only a human body could produce.

“Aren’t you an adorable one,” She said, “A quick was behind the ears, put you in a dress, and you’d make a perfect girl.”

“S-surely you’re joking, Ma’am…” He said, trying to lean away from the rock-hard protuberance. He grimaced as she batted it against his face; the fabric of her dress was moist. She chuckled above him, her tight grip forcing his cheeks to slide along and rub against the bulge.

“Oh? I’m sure given enough time I could teach you the proper… etiquette for these situations,” She purred.

Thomas swallowed nervously as she reached down to her skirts, pulling the ruffled layers upwards until-

Bloody Nora!

It was huge. Enormous. Over-sized, colossal, titanic. The head alone was about the size of his fist, and the shaft even thicker. It throbbed and bobbed in front of him, the tip oozing sticky, musky pre. Veiny and stinking of sweat; the kind of thing you associate with beast more than beauty. And there was absolutely no way it was going to fit down his throat.

“You can’t be serious!” He squeaked.

“Oh?” She grinned, grabbing his head again and pressing his face against it. The heat was unbearable and the feel even more so; the skin was smooth, the flesh rock solid. Sticky globules of warm pre-cum dripped and dragged over his face as she ground herself on him, the full length greater than his forearm. “I thought the greatest shiner in London could handle it?”

“I-I was just joshing with you! A joke, you see?”

“Too bad. You took the job, and if you want your crown, you’d best get to work,” Lady Abberton dragged the sticky head across his lips, and he grimaced, “Come on, boy. I haven’t got all day.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but it was immediately filled by her cock. His tongue was inundated with salty, chalky fluid, making him retch. He wanted to spit it out. Or bite it. Something to get this disgusting thing out of his mouth. But… a crown was an awful lot. And if he was quick… He closed his eyes, swallowing a wretched mouthful and slowly dragging his tongue along the smooth tip. Lady Abberton hissed with delight, bucking her hips into his face. The head of her cock couldn’t even fit inside his mouth. Something dropped around him, blanketing him in darkness and making him panic before her hand pressed at his head through the fabric of her dress. As if being made to suck it wasn’t enough, now she wanted to make him feel like a dirty secret!

“Ooh… that’s it, girly boy,” Lady Abberton cooed above him, “A little more tongue, if you would.”

His hands groped blindly in the dark, finding her thick thighs and moving slowly upward to her crotch. His fingers brushed along her balls; big and hairless, no doubt full of… He shuddered, one hand trying its best to wrap around her impossibly thick shaft while the other gently cupped and rolled her enormous testes. He slurped and suckled her cockhead, swallowing mouthfuls of pre as her hands forced him closer. His jaw was already aching from being stretched. His cheeks burnt with red hot embarrassment as her hands forced him further and further along her massive cock.

“Mmm… you learn fast, don’t you?” She said, “Aah… I love it when my boys get into their work.”

He wrapped both his hands around her shaft, his finger barely meeting, and pumped up and down the hard member. The sweaty, musky smell was surrounding him, filling his senses. Breathing was hard, his tongue starting to falter as he was forced to lavish more and more of her cock. He squeaked and whimpered around it, but her hands held him fast.

She groaned and shuddered, her cock beginning to twitch. Thomas’ eyes opened wide as he fought against her grip. He let go of her cock, pushed back against her soft thighs, his protests muffled by her cock. But his struggles only seemed to make things worse. With a long moan, Lady Abberton pushed her hips forward just as her cock pulsed and spat into his mouth.

“Oh, yes!” She cried, “Drink it all, you little slut!”

It was thick and vile; salty, bitter and chalky all at once. Shot and dribbled and oozed over Thomas’ tongue, flooding his mouth until he was forced to swallow. And then again, and again; over and over, gulping down sticky loads with a grimace each time. It felt unending. He weakly rubbed her balls in a vain attempt to speed her up, but she just kept cumming. Finally, the last few spurts dripped into his mouth, pooling on his tongue. Her cock held fast, only sliding away when he relented and swallowed the last gulp. Her grip loosened, and the dress was pulled away from above him.

“Well, now… was that filling?” Lady Abberton said, smirking down at him.

“You came so much…” He coughed, wiping away any stray droplet on his sleeve.

“Hence, the need for a shiner. It would be uncouth for a Lady such as myself to sully her own hands with such matters,” She strode away from him, making her way toward the door like they’d merely had a chat, “You’ll find Rosalyn downstairs. See her for your payment. Though, one would think you’ve already ‘drank from my cup’ enough.”

She exited, leaving Thomas to try and stop himself retching. Last time he ever took a job that was too good to be true. He stood, shaking and more than a little queasy as he dragged himself down the stairs. He could bear voices coming from one of the rooms; was the Lady with guests? While his spit was still around her… He shook his head and covered his mouth. Some people…

He found Rosalyn at the bottom of the stairs, her smile turned up in much the same smirk as Lady Abberton’s.

“I hear my Lady was delighted with your service,” She said, holding out the silver coin.

“You could say that… finest shiner…” He mumbled, taking it from her hands. Had she known the whole time? And if she did, why didn’t she just ask for it in the first place? Thomas knew at least three birds and one bloke who’d do it for free, let alone for a crown.

“So, um,” He said, “Are you all aware of your lady’s… condition?”

“Condition?” Rosalyn raised an eyebrow, “What on earth are you talking…?”

She grabbed Thomas by his collar, pulling him toward her. He squeaked as she sniffed around his mouth, a cruel grin growing across her features.

“Hah! You actually did it!” She cackled, “The girly cocksucker swallowed a load, did he? You dirty little wretch. Go ahead, take your crown. And have a few farthings as well! We wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed about how little you sold your dignity for, now would we?”

Thomas’ cheeks were burning, tears starting to prick the corners of his eyes despite his best efforts. At least that explained the deception. Bloody bunch of sadists, the lot of them! Rosalyn continued to laugh, dumping a handful of bronze coins atop the silver crown. She dragged him through the parlor -much to the amusement of the old butler- and out into an alleyway behind the house. The coins in his hands tinkled to the floor, and he scrabbled desperately for them.

“Do come back if you want another! I’m sure my Lady will be more than happy to feed you again!” Rosalyn said, closing the door with a loud slam.

Thomas stood up, adjusting his ragged blazer and cradling the handful of coins. His cheeks burnt, his jaw ached, and his dignity was in tatters. Even the money couldn’t soothe his shattered ego. He sighed, slipped it into his pockets, and made his way down the alley. Desperately trying not to notice or remember how hard his cock was throughout the whole ordeal.

THE END