Between the conductor and the female clerk

Chop-Chop stiffened as she looked through the door into the train compartment where she expected to find Old Netherwood's underbutler Hawkins.

"Hawkins?" Lucy called through the open compartment door.

"M-Miss Lucy?" a shaky voice replied.

Lucy's eyes focused on the unlikely scene of Hawkins standing behind a stout woman in railway clerk's jacket and cap. Hawkins' handsome form was bent forward over her back with the stout figure of their train conductor close behind him. Hawkins had both hands on the clerk's broad, bare rump as she bent forward, gripping the narrow shelf that served as her shipping-clerk's desk. Hawkins' male member bridged the gap between them at an angle that suggested unnatural sexual congress. Similarly, Hawkins' bare buttocks were transfixed by the train conductor's member. The stout, muscular conductor steadily battered Hawkins' rear gate.

The three celebrants of the rite of Venus Cloacina seemed near a crisis, their faces flushed. The conductor paid no attention to Lucy's intrusion but manfully kept his engine at his work plumbing Hawkins' back channel. Hawkins had paused with Lucy's call, but let himself move again with the conductor's thrusts. The clerk moaned aloud, frigging her unoccupied cunnie as Hawkins' rigid member slid rhythmically back and forth through her orifice of evacuation.

It was quite a spectacle.

Lucy spoke up hurriedly. "Hawkins, please find us in Compartment Three in the next car when you are able. Cook and I are on our way to Old Netherwood."

"Yes Miss Lucy!" Hawkins said.

"Carry on!" Lucy said with good humour.

Hawkins renewed his grip on the clerk's rump and gave the lady his best. "Cordelia, your lovely bum, ah!" he said.

"Yesyesyesyes!" the lady said, frigging furiously. "Ayeeee..." Her neck stretched out. Her cap fell off onto her desk. Underneath her auburn hair was pinned up tightly.

Lucy closed the door with a firm click from the latch, blocking the vision but only muffling the voice.

The lady, as was proper, achieved her joys first, vocally.

That victorious growl must be the conductor firing his masculine engine into Hawkins' bum.

Lucy turned to Chop-chop. Her face was bright with mirth.

"Turn, sir, and receive me," Hawkins said. Another groan signaled the conductor's reception of Hawkins' member. "Ah, good man! Now take what you have given!"

Chop-chop laughed.

Lucy led her back to Compartment Three. She hoped to confer with Hawkins upon her new role as mistress and upon the state of Old Netherwood.