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“The Prince is coming!” Gertie called, “The Prince is coming!”
“What?” Cinders asked of her step sister as she she raked out the fourteenth fireplace that morning, “Coming to Saddleworth?”
“Yes coming to Saddleworth,” Gertie said, “He’s coming to open our new Town Hall”
“Oh!” said Cinders.
“He’ll be coming up our road our Cinders,” said her step sister Anna,”You’ll have to chuck ashes in canal or road will be dusty.”me.”
“Dusty?” Cinders asked, “In Yorkshire, get real!”
“It were dry on our Harry’s birthday,” Gertie announced.
“No it wasn’t our Gertie,” Anna said, “It bloody snowed!”
“Roads was dry though,” Gertie announced.
“Right,” Cinders agreed, “Blimey is that the time, ” she gasped, “I’m late for Butler’s blow job!”
“How come you give Butler a blow job every dinner?” Gertie asked.
“Better than getting fucked up,” said Cinders with a smirk, “And I cheeks him for a glass of stout to wash it down with after!”
“Do our mam know?” Gertie asked.
“Course she do our Gertie,” Anna sighed, “It’s in his terms and conditions!”
“I don’t mind,” Cinders said, “Really.”
“It’s disgusting!” Gertie said.
“How do you know?” Anna asked, “
“Well, it must be!” Gertie blushed.
“I need the practice,” Cinders admitted, “I’m going to be the best cock sucker in Yorkshire and marry a mine owner’s son!”
“You silly bugger,” said Anna, “They don’t want cock suckers.”
“Do if they don’t want kids,” Cinders said , “Crying and shitting all the time.
“Them want’s it up your ass hole!” Anna explained.
“I got to go!” Cinders insisted and she clattered away in her well worn clogs.
“Here’s my plan,” Cinders said, as Buttons sat beside her when they had their snap.
“There’s only one bog at Saddleworth Midland.” she explained, “Only one sit down Gents bog any road, so they’ll tart it up for Prince, and right above it there’s a hatch up into loft,” she said almost proudly, “And Ted Hepplethwaite said as he would give me a leg up so as I can hide up there until Prince needs a crap and then come down and give him the best blow job he’s ever had!”
“It’s no good,” Buttons the under footman explained, “They have bogs on the train now!”
“No!” Cinders said, “Surely not!”
“Oh yes, on Royal train any road!” Buttons added.
“But Ted said,” Cinder protested.
“Maybe he’s stringing you along,” Buttons suggested.
“But he helped me practice!” Cinders replied.
“What?” Buttons asked.
Cinders thought a moment, “He helped me up in loft and pretended to be prince while I worked out how to give blow job without me feet poking out under the bog door!”
“You didn’t give him blow job as well did you?” Buttons asked.
“Yes,” she admitted, “But I never swallowed.”
“That makes it all right then,” Buttons exclaimed sarcastically.
“At least he washes first,” Cinders said, “Not like you!”
“That’s not fair, he’s got hot running water at station.” Buttons explained, “We only got cold!”
“Butler washes and he’s only got cold,” Cinders protested.
“Cripes,” Buttons exclaimed, “Is there anyone you don’t practice blow jobs on?”
“Only you and butler, and fish man and Ted of course.” Cinders said, “Why?
Buttons shook his head and wandered off.
Cinders was really annoyed and as soon as she had her piece of bread and dripping she grabbed her shawl and set off into the pouring rain towards Saddleworth Midland station where she found Ted talking to Ernie Grimsdale guard of the 11.30 local train to Bradford.
“Oi!” Cinders said, “You never said they had bogs in trains now.”
“Bogs on trains,” Ernie laughed, “Not on this one they don’t.”
“Royal Train!” Cinders exclaimed, “Buttons said Royal Train has bog on it.”
“Royal Train?” Ernie laughed, “Bloody Geordie Stephenson built that un his sen, built if for Liverpool and Mancester in eithteen twenty nine for directors, they would be lucky to have a bucket to crap in let alone proper bog!”
“Liar!” Cinders snapped, “You’re in it together.”
“What?” Ernie demanded.
“You just want free blow jobs!” she hissed.
“He wants more than blow jobs miss,” Ernie laughed, “You want to watch yourself!”
Ted blushed crimson, “Look, I still don’t think royal train has a bog on it,” he said, “I likes you Cinders, I ent trying to con you.”
“You’re lower than a worms belly!” Cinders snapped, “Both of you!” she looked around hopelessly, “I’m never going to marry a prince now am I?”
Ernie smiled sadly, “You never was lass, no matter how good you are at blow jobs.”
“She’s bloody good though Ernie,” Ted admitted.
“So you said Ted,” Ernie agreed, “Eh up it’s twenty to, time we buggered off,” he said and he waved his flag and blew his whistle and the train gradually wheezed out of the station.
“Bloody lying pillock!” Cinders said, “If I never see you again it will çiğli escort be too soon.”
“Cinders!” Ted pleaded, “Look I got a Sunday off next month, maybe we could go to church or something?”
“In your dreams, moron!” Cinders said and she stormed off with her clogs clattering on the street.
Ted went back to the waiting room and put his feet up for a minute as he had been on duty since four that morning and wasn’ t due to finish until the ten o’clock from Battersby arrived around midnight.
George Richmond the Stationmaster wandered in, “Oi you lazy pillock, there’s cleaning to be done,” he cried, “You ask that girl of yours about giving me a blow job?”
“Uh, no sir, she ent really got time.” Ted admitted.
“Well if you fucked her ass instead she could blow me at same time,” he suggested, “Where’s she work anyway, down Graythwaite street by Abattoir?”
“She chambermaid sir, well under chambermaid, fire lighter really sir.” Ted explained.
“Pity, if she’d have been whore or summat respectable she’d have made a decent wife for thee,” George said as he sat down, “Maybe get thee sen promotion, have thee own station mebbe.”
“I’ll mis her,” Ted admitted, “Her beautiful blue eyes looking at me as she gobbles me cock, that long blonde hair,”
“Offer her sixpence a time lad, she’ll be back.” George suggested.
“That’s a days wages!” Ted exclaimed outraged,”I can’t afford that when I can fuck Mrs Miggins me landlady up the ass for halfpenny.”
“Not the same though is it?” George suggested, “Not the same.”
Cinders was in a foul mood, “All them blow jobs!” she railed, “I could have charged a penny a time, tuppence mebbe.”
“You always were a slut,” Gertie agreed, “That’s why your father disowned you.”
“No he didn’t,” Cinders said, “He said it was up to me, he said if I wanted to screw around I could live like a servant!”
“But you don’t do you Cinders,” Anna explained, “You haven’t had a cock up you properly yet have you?”
“Might have,” Cinders said defensively but she had been so busy recently giving blow jobs that she simply hadn’t had time to get laid.
Ted were despondent, but later on when “Jock” O’keefe came in on the local train from Rawtenstall, he went across for a chat.
“Do you reckon it’s right they got a bog on royal train?” he asked.
“No idea,” Jock admitted, “Ye’ll be wantin’ a word wi’ Union rep, Elias Scargill, he’ll know.”
“Right,” Ted agreed.
“If they’ve a convenience in the train then we should have one on the engine too,” Jock suggested, “Its very embarrassing doing your business upon the footplate when ye’re doing the best part of fifty mile an hour on an express.”
“I suppose,” Ted agreed, “Can’t you shit on shovel and burn it in firebox?”
“That’s disgusting, do ye no know we eat our breakfast off of the shovel, this is eighteen seventy ye ken not bloody middle ages,” Jock reminded him, “And who cleans the convenience, is it cess pool emptier or carriage and wagon grade?” he asked.
“That’s right,” Ted agreed, “Unless there’s just hole in floor and shit drops on track.”
“Filthy Sassenachs,” Jock said, “I’ll see Scargill and see if he canna have stop put to it.”
The household was in disarray, a letter had arrived, ‘His worshipfullness Albert Higginbotham Mayor of Saddleworth, cordially invites the right hon Mr Clarence Hepple and Mrs Florence Hepple to the opening of Saddleworth town hall,’ and continued, “Tickets one and sixpence.”
“What do you mean can’t go!” Gertie demanded.
“Cinders is eldest, you can’t go if she don’t.” the father insisted.
“But you said if she want’s to fuck around she has to be servant!” Annie exclaimed.
“Has Cinders been fucked proper?” the father asked, as Cinders walked in, “Have you had it yet?” he demanded.
“I’ve been busy!” Cinders protested.
“Right, get a bath and find summat smart,” the father said, “You can behave like a proper brought up girl for a change.”
“But father!” she protested.
“No more rags for you,” he said, “Mother, find that frilly white thing she wore at Ada Ormskirk’s wedding.”
“That was bridesmaids dress,” the mother reminded him, “You better wear that nice blue dress.”
“I can’t give blow jobs in a posh dress!” Cinders gasped.
“Exactly,” her father explained, “Exactly, I give you every chance to get yourself up duff and all you give is blow jobs like a any respectable well brought up girl, if you want to be a slut you got to work at it.”
“I shan’t!” Cinders protested.
“Yes you damned well shall!” he said, “Or you’ll feel the leather of my belt on your ass,” he said as unwisely he undid his trouser belt and the mountain of belly flesh it supported suddenly cascaded downwards taking his trousers and underpants and leaving him standing in with his hairy legs and rapidly swelling hairy little cock in full view.
“Clarence!” the twins mother çiğli escort bayan exclaimed, “You can’t expect Cinders to give you a blow job!”
“How else will I get me trousers up, unless thee does it!” he asked.
“Oh very well,” the mother insisted, “I shan’t swallow.”
“Less I fucks you up the ass?” Clarence suggested.
“Or somewhere soft and warm?” she simpered.
“We ent having no more kids,” Clarence insisted
“Leave us,” the mother insisted and before poor Clarence could protest the mother had her skirts around her waist revealing stockings and suspenders and a mass of black curls hiding her little used cunt, and to Clarence’s distress she pinned him against the wall and ignoring his protests stood on tip toe and impaled herself on his tool.
“Crikey I thought people fucked like Rabbits,” Anna confessed.
“Get out!” the mother cried.
“Bloody hell!” gasped Cinders, “Sod that for a way to make a living!”
“Them’s doing it wrong, her should be on her back,” Gertie opined.
“Get, Out!” The father shouted, and they dutifully filed away.
“How many more time I don’t want to go to the Ball,” Cinders insisted.
“It’s only for a bit, you can go home at midnight!” her father explained as he stood before her.
“No!” Cinders said again.
“Look, I know you want to give the Prince a blow job,” he explained.
“Who told you!” she demanded.
“Cook,” he explained, “If you must know, so here is what I propose, first you go to the station as planned, hide in the loft and give prince a blow job then of his doesn’t marry you on the spot you come to the ball all tarted up like some fairy tale whore, do we have a deal?”
“I’ll dress like a princess, actually if I marry prince I suppose I’ll have to dress like a princess all the time?” Cinders exclaimed.
“Your mother has more chance of winning the two twenty at Lingfield than you have of marrying the prince,” her father said sadly.
The Big day came, crowds lined the streets, mill owners declared a holiday from a quarter to four until half past so workers could se prince close up, and at London punctually only ten minutes late the prince kissed his official mistress goodbye and headed for Kings Cross station where Mr Sterling’s magnificent if lop sided single cylinder engine No 2 waited with royal train, two first class coaches for servants, the royal saloon, a horse box and carriage truck for the royal carriage and three third class coaches for servant’s servants and spare whores in case any of princes’ whores went down with clap.
It all went very well, No 2 whisked them along at thirty eight miles an hour and more and there wasn’t any fuss at all to begin with, The Great North railway Royal saloon was slap bang up to date with water closets (flushing bogs,) by Thomas Crapper in gleaming porelein and polished brass and the Sterling Single class engine thrashed along noisily with the eight coaches behind until they handed over to Leeds and Rotherham railway at Slaithewaite junction near Grimethorpe.
There were a terrible to do at Slaithewaite Junction, Elias Scargill the union rep demands to know what happens to shit from bog in royal saloon and when he finds it drops on to track he demands that the royal saloon with the bog is uncoupled and left behind, “Why in gods name?” asked the Prince when he was told there was a delay and he stepped into platform forthwith, “You there!” he demanded of Scargill, “What is the meaning of this!”.
“We don’t want your shit on our tracks your grace,” Scargill admitted.
“Are you an agitator?” the Prince asked, “A republican?” he enquired.
“Might be, is that like a Publican what runs a pub?” Scargill asked.
“God give me strength!” the Prince insisted, “Leave the saloon I’ll travel first class with the common people!” he said, “And look after the girls till I get back!”
Elias promised he would do just that, not realising there were six prostitutes and a rent boy dressed like a girl in Prince’s private carriage all high from sniffing Tetleys number four herbal tea mix with added heroin and drunk on Newcastle Green Ale.
There was a kerfuffle as the Sterling engine was uncouled and “Rother” the Leeds and Rotherham’s newest and biggest engine, which directors insisted that was used despite the pleas from anyone with any sense that it was a goods engine and completely unsuitable, but it was coupled on, and to the intense annoyance of the passengers waiting for the Saddleworth local ‘Rother’ pulled and pushed the carriages around to leave the Prince’s saloon in the cattle dock, and then no more than an hour late they set off up branch to Saddleworth.
‘Rother’ was a slow goods engine even by Yorkshire standards and that was slow and it’s wheels weren’t balanced so the whole train shook violently as soon as it got over twenty miles and hour, “What is this?” the Prince complained, as the gut escort çiğli churning vibrations coursed through the carriage, “A republican torture chamber?”
Harry Biggins driving ‘Rother’ did his best but with everything on the footplate vibrating so bad that it was just a blur he couldn’t even go as fast as the regular train engine let alone make up any part of the lost hour.
“Oh my innards!” the prince cried, but decorum prevented him joining his servants who were hanging from the windows vomiting freely.
The waiting crowd had mainly gone home as Harry drove into Saddleworth with whistle screaming and choking black smoke swirling from the chimney, finally Harry stopped ‘Rother right by the red carpet which was a shame because he was supposed to stop the Prince’s carriage door right by it.
“Three cheers for the,” the Stationmaster announced loudly as the Prince bolted past him.
“The conveniences, where are the conveniences!” the prince cried.
“Through,” the stationmaster cried as he shot out of sight following the signs.
“Thank god,” the prince cried as he filled the bowl with secondhand vindaloo.
“Jesus,” Cinders cried as she started to climb down from the loft only to see the princes back when she expected to see him sitting on bog.
“What?” demanded the prince as she descended,”Oh for god’s sake leave me alone!”
“But I want to give you a blow job so you’ll marry me!” Cinders cried.
“No, please!” the prince protested as he turned round to sit in the bog, and then seeing how disappointed Cinders looked he relented, “Just a quick one.”
He dropped his trousers and revealed a short fat cock still wet with stale cum and whore’s juices.
“Yuck!” Cinders protested, “I’m not sucking that!”
“You said,” the prince exclaimed.
“It’s deformed and it stinks!” she said in alarm.
“What do you expect?” he demanded, “I’ve had six whores and a ladyboy to satisfy on the train up, it’s no wonder my tool is in a bad way!”
“Oh!” Cinders gasped, “I had no idea.”
“And my wife will have a household of thirteen to satisfy, lord knows where I’ll find a rampant enough whore to do that.” he explained, “Unless you want the job?”
“Uh no thanks,” said Cinders.
“You would make a lovely Duchess,” he said, “so will you marry me?”
“Would I have to let them fuck me?” Cinders said, “Or would blow jobs be enough.”
“Fucked, I’m afraid,” he explained, “Up the backside, it’s considered to be one of the perks of the job for the royal household, we have to do it or we would have to pay decent wages.”
“I think I’ll pass then,” Cinders said, “If its all the same with you.”
“It’s fine, I’m used to it,” he admitted, “They’re all fired up to marry me and then when I reveal the tadger they back off, I thought it was because it is so big.”
“It’s quite short really,” Cinders said, “But fat but it stinks thats the real problem, not like Ted Hepplethwaite’s his is long and thin and tastes lovely.”
“Right,” said the prince as boredom set in.
“He always washes first and sprinkles lavender water on his cock so it smells nice,” she said.
“Slow down,” the prince urged, “I’ll write that down on a piece of tissue,” he said as he grabbed a piece of bog roll and a pencil, “Lavender water.”
“Yes Lavender water,” she repeated.
“Perhaps you should marry Mr Hepplethwaite,” the prince suggested, “If his cock is so tasty?”
“I suppose,” Cinders agreed.
“So if you’ll excuse me my public awaits,” the prince requested, and Cinders stepped aside and allowed him to pull his trousers up and to slip from the cubicle.
Cinders sadly watched him go, her dreams in tatters.
“Eh up lass,” Ted said brightly as he saw her standing there, “How did it go?”
“His cock stunk,” she said, “I couldn’t do nothing with it, made me sick it did.”
“You daft wazzock you should have let him ball you,” he advised, “You could have had a kid and charged him for it.”
“I suppose,” she said, “But I’m saving that for my husband.”
“Never mind,” he said, “I would miss you if you got married.”
“Would you?” she asked, “Maybe?”
“What?” he asked.
“Never mind,” she agreed, and she remembered she had promised to get tarted up like a fairy tale Princess and go to the do at the Town Hall.
“Oh Cinders you do scrub up nice,” her father commented as she stood before him in her ball gown.
“I feel a right prat,” she said, “You can see most of me tits down the front of this thing.”
“Truly delectable my dear,” her father agreed, “I thought you liked displaying your charms?”
“Not like this I bloody don’t and how am I supposed to sit down with this great bustle thing on me ass?” Cinders asked.
“Look Christina,” her father explained, “I have given you far too much leeway and if you don’t behave I will put you over my knee and spank your bare backside, do you understand.”
“Don’t be a pillock Albert that’ll make her cum!” said her mother, “No if you don’t get offer of marriage from Prince its straight round Hepplethwaite’s in morning and let Ernie put you in family way.”
“His mam thinks I ent good enough for him,” Cinders said sadly.
“Then marry the prince,” her father said abruptly.
“Yes father,” she said.
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