TURNED OUT NICE AGAIN
Lady Judith Quimby buckled and moaned as yet another orgasm careered through her body like a runaway freight train. Naked and squirming in a pool of sweat and pussy juice, she tried to get to her feet once more but she barely made it to her knees before another shout from the audience sent her plummeting back to the ground.
“Shake those Bristol Cities!” shouted one man,
“Work that aris girl!” called out another.
Judith was a mess; she had long since been sheathed of her apparels and was now reduced to nothing more than a pool of lust, at the mercy of any man who uttered Cockney Rhyming slang in her direction. Each obscure utterance of dialect sent her body deeper than the last and she was powerless to resist. Ever since she had met Ernie, her life had been like this: a figure of sleaze and fun. It hadn’t always been like this, before Ernie she had been an upstanding member of society, a Lady, one hundred and nineteenth in line to the throne. Her life was a mass of village garden parties and afternoon teas with Dukes and Duchesses.
In this brief second of lucidity between the vulgar grunts of the rabble that was her audience, she could remember her previous life like it was yesterday. But as a call to ‘spread her Mystics’ insulted her ears and assaulted her cunt, she returned to the inner gloom of knowing that this was her life now and that the days of punting on the canal were over and all because of Ernie. It had all happened… this morning.
6 HOURS AGO…
Lady Quimby is searching for her butler. She appears displeased.
“Gerald! Gerald where are you?”
“Coming Milady.” replied the butler, his will to live had ebbed away years ago. Not caring whether one dropped dead the next minute was the only way to cope with someone as constantly demanding as Lady Quimby.
“I thought I asked you to fix the bannisters Gerald.”
“The repair man is on his way Milady, I was busy seeing to the petunias as per your previous instructions.”
“Well don’t! Leave the flower bed be for now. You always do a ghastly job of it anyway. I don’t know why I keep you on here. You are nothing but a liability.”
“It was a final request in your father’s will if you remember Milady. That I shall always serve the Quimby household for as long as I am still able.”
“Well you don’t seem very able to me Gerald. Now where is my Darjeeling and teacakes? It’s ten o’clock already! Why must I always have to remind you of your duties every day?”
“I am terribly sorry Milady, please forgive my insolence as to assume you could manage to boil your own kettle this morning.” The second part of Gerald’s reply was uttered just quietly enough not to be understood by his employer.
“What was that?”
“Nothing Milady, I’ll be right back with the tea.”
“And make sure it is Darjeeling this time and not that Indian rubbish you served yesterday. An English Lady always drinks English tea.”
“Yes Milady,” sighed Gerald. ‘Why were the lords and ladies of the manor always the retarded ones?’ He thought to himself.
4 HOURS AGO…
There is a knock at the front door. Gerald goes to answer it, the dissatisfaction of Lady Quimby ringing in his tired old ears. He opens the front door to be faced with one of the scruffiest young men he had ever seen.
“May I help you sir?” asked the butler.
“I’m ‘ere to fix yer grizzlies.” Replied the man.
“You are here to what sir?”
“Fix yer grizzlies, you know? Grizzly Bears? Stairs? You not from round these parts mate?”
“My family has been here for twelve generations sir.”
“Then I’d a fawt you’d of learnt a bit of the old lingo by now then.”
“Lingo sir?”
“Yeah lingo, you know what people speak like? A bit of the old Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Rhyming slang like.”
Gerald saw no malice in the young man, just an upbringing clearly different from his own. He just hoped that the man would be able to get the bannister fixed before he encountered her ladyship as she was sure to disapprove of the poor lad’s commonness.
“Well if you would like to follow me Mr…?”
“Just call me Ernie guvnor.”
“Very well Ernie, the stairwell is through here. Would you care for a cup of tea before you begin?”
“Cor, I would say no to that me old mucker. Two sugars cheers thanks.”
“As you wish sir.” Gerald then retired to the kitchen to make Ernie a cup of tea as he got started on the job at hand.
Lady Quimby was out in the garden trying to enjoy her midday nap when she was disturbed by a God-awful sound coming from the house. She called out to Gerald but he was not to be seen. Tired and aggravated she lifted herself out of the sun-lounger and stormed into the house to be faced with Ernie: saw in hand, face covered in dirt and whistling the tune to the Bear Necessities.
“Who in God’s name are you and what are you doing in my house!” she demanded
Ernie looked over to her and smiled. “Afternoon luv, name’s Ernie. I’m just here to fix yer apples here.”
“My apples?”
“Yeah you know? Apples and pears? Stairs? They’re a bit cream-crackered you see.”
“Apples and pears? Cream-crackered? Are you on heroin?” Lady Quimby’s face was beetroot red as she spun around the room searching for Gerald, “Gerald! Gerald! There is a drug addict vandalising my home! Gerald where are you?”
Unable to hide any longer, the tired defeated old man appeared. “Yes Milady?”
“Gerald where were you? How could you leave me alone with this disgusting criminal?”
Gerald sighed inwardly, “He is not a criminal madam, he is here to fix the stairway.”
“Well if he isn’t on drugs why is he speaking nonsense? Did you employ an immigrant?”
“He is from London Madam.” Gerald’s voice remained monotone.
Lady Quimby turned to Ernie. “Did they not teach you how to talk properly at school?”
“I speak how I was raised Miss.” replied Ernie. “Ain’t nobody more honest and hardworking than yer proper Cockney Londoner and that’s the truth.”
“Still, I do not care for you or the filth that comes out of your mouth.” She turned to Gerald, “Gerald I do not want this man in my house, show him the door if you please and do not pay him a penny.”
“That’s hardly fair luv,” protested Ernie, “I’m not looking for any Barney Rubble, just let me get on the old dog and bone and I’ll have the timber ready to finish the job today. Have a heart will ya luv, I already owe a monkey on the house and the trouble and strife is giving me grief at home, I need the business.”
Lady Quimby ignored Ernie’s pleas and continued to address Gerald, “I want this man out of my house now! And next time, employ somebody who can speak English.”
Gerald looked over to Ernie, a defeated look on his face. “I’m sorry sir.”
“It’s not your fault mate. Just let me say one more thing and then I’ll be on my way.” Ernie looked Lady Quimby straight in the eye and smiled. “Tell me luv,” he began, “What d’ya think of me old mince pies here?”
“Mince. Pies?” scoffed Lady Quimby, she was ready to really give this young rapscallion a piece of her mind when her eyes suddenly locked on his and she went quiet.
“Yes,” continued Ernie, “My mince pies.”
Lady Quimby felt a small wave of pleasure bubble up inside her at the sound of Ernie’s voice. She tried to hide it but Ernie had already seen the tell-tale look in her eyes.
“Or what about my Barnet Fair, Suits a handsome boat race like mine just perfick don’t you think?”
Lady Quimby began to squirm at the knees. Each piece of cockney slang sent a wave of pleasure rushing through her, each more stronger than the last. Gerald was watching this unfold, but after many a year of suffering at the hands of her Ladyship, he was happy to stand back and see where this was going. He was content to leave Ernie be and Ernie in turn felt no need for Gerald to be involved, he was a good man. It was only her Ladyship who needed to be taught a lesson.
“I think you are becoming much more receptive to the Cockney tongue Miss Quimby.”
“That’s Lady Quimby!” snapped Judith, back in control of her voice.
“Feisty! I like it.” Said Ernie, “I like a girl with some fire in her Delhi.” Once again Lady Quimby’s body betrayed her as it rocked even more vigorously in time with Ernie’s words. Ernie began to lay on the cockney in spades, “How does it feel being so turned on by mere words? Does it send a tingle to your Bristols? Do your mince pies roll into the back of your head? Does your James Hunt yearn for more?”
Ernie’s monologue continued on and on, and each new phrase sent a bullet of pleasure through Lady Quimby at a rate of knots she was powerless to fight against. By now Ernie’s lecture was nothing more than lines of vocab spoken one after the other. Lady Quimby’s body was no longer experiencing mere pleasure to the sound of slang, but was being hit by full blown orgasms in reaction to every last utterance. The first dropped her to one knee, by the third she was on the ground looking up at Ernie, her eyes pleading for forgiveness.
Looking down on the prostrate Lady of the Manor, Ernie ceased his monologue of gibberish. “Have we learned our lesson?” he asked her.
Lady Quimby nodded meekly, no words exited her mouth.
“Are you sure?”
Once again she nodded.
“I don’t believe you.” Said Ernie, before adding: “Frog and toad.” Sending another climax ripping through Lady Quimby’s defeated body.
“I’m sorry. Really I am” pleaded Lady Quimby, “please, I’ll pay you double for fixing the stairwell.”
“That’s not enough.” Smiled Ernie, “Anyone can apologise with money. There’s only one way I can know you are truly sorry.” To Judith’s horror she looked up as Ernie began to unzip his jeans. “Suck it dry and swallow it all and I may just believe you.”
“I can’t! Don’t!” she began.
“Dog and Bone! Cherry Hog! Nelson Eddy’s!” replied Ernie.
Lady Quimby doubled up in pleasure once more. “Okay! Okay! You win. I’ll do it.”
“There’s a good girl.”
Defeated and drenched in her own arousal, Lady Quimby took Ernie’s cock in her hand and began to suck. She closed her eyes, hoping to imagine she was somewhere else, and pumped his shaft as quickly as she could, trying to get the ordeal over with as quickly as she could. Soon Ernie was ready to cum and he made sure to time his own release with a few choice words of slang to send Lady Quimby’s body into overdrive. Her back end twitched and shuddered in pleasure whilst her mouth fought to stay clamped over his cock so that she could drink down every last drop and win her freedom.
“Congratulations.” Said Ernie, “I think you have proved that you are truly sorry to me.”
“I really am. I will never speak to you like that again.”
“And I relinquish the power of my words over you.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“It was my pleasure.” Smiled Ernie, “However… just to be sure I have left you with one trigger, in case you decide to relapse into your wicked ways.”
“T…t…trigger?”
“Of course, I wouldn’t want you relapsing into your old self as soon as I am gone would I?”
“But you can’t…”
“Oh but I can Milady. Do not worry though; I do not intend to be unfair. I will leave decision at all times with your oldest and most trusted employee. Good old Gerald here. If he feels you have relapsed back into your callous ways then all he need say are the words: ‘Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’ and you will once again be at the sexual mercy of the cockney word. Gerald and Gerald alone will hold this power, he can switch it off and he can switch it on again.
“Now Miss Quimby, Gerald, I bid you all farewell.”
“But… but… you can’t! Please… don’t!”
Her protests were of no use though as Ernie disappeared out the front door and Lady Quentin was left alone with her butler (whose will to live had recently experienced a resurrection of which Lazarus would have been proud).
“Gerald,” she began, “You know you have always been a valued member of this household. I was thinking that it was time to renegotiate your salary.”
“Were you now… Judy.” Replied Gerald, knowing full well how much she hated being addressed as Judy.
“Y…yes, I was thinking that you haven’t been rewarded like you should for your years of service to me and my father.”
“You want to reward me Judy?”
“Please Gerald, don’t call me that.”
“Why not Judy? I think an old and trusted member of the household such as myself should be able to address you in a more friendly manner.”
“Don’t push it Gerald?”
“Push what Judy?”
“I’m warning you Gerald. I know you don’t have the balls to try and screw with me. You’re weak, a coward! Just like your father before you. Stop it and I will not fire you on the spot you miserable excuse for a butler.”
Gerald paused briefly, “You… you’re right Milady. I apologise. Please forgive my insolence.”
“Just clean this up and stay out of my sight.” With that Lady Quimby exited and Gerald was left to clean up her mess, but not before one quick phone call….
1 HOUR AGO…
There is a knock on the door. Gerald answers it to see most of the men of the village outside the front door. Some are carrying printouts containing a long list of words.
“It’s for you Milady.” Called out Gerald.
“Who is it?”
“The town, Milady.”
“The town?”
“Yes they have all come to watch… err visit you Milady.”
“Visit me?” asked Lady Quimby as she arrived at the front door. “Why have they come to visit me?”
“They say that they all want to be here for your debut Milady.”
“Debut? What the hell are they talking about Gerald? Did you really need disturb me for this nonsense?”
“Oh yes Milady. It was imperative that you came to the door.”
“Why?”
“Because Chitty Chitty, Bang Bang Milady.” Smiled Gerald.