Honeymoon Hell

Chapter 04 – Lord and Lady Atherton

 

      “Lord Cranmere will be there, Henry,” gasped Lady Atherton after removing my saliva-coated cock from her mouth.  “He’s going to bring the Stapleton twins and Rodney Underwood. 

     “So will Sir Oswald Mosley and Lady Diana,” added Lord Atherton.

     I was surprised to learn my Uncle dined with Great Britain’s best known Fascist couple.  The divorce of Diana Mitford Guinness and her subsequent marriage to the most notorious man in England had been the scandal of the year.  Diana was one of the famous Mitford sisters.  She was strikingly beautiful and famously depraved.  I’d seen pictures of her in the tabloids and the possibility of fucking her hardened my cock which at present was wedged in my favorite Aunt’s throat.  

      Drool cascaded down onto her aged breasts.  She’d just finished a round of stabbing my manhood into the opening of her throat before taking it deep in her gullet and keeping it there until her body’s demand for oxygen overwhelmed her lust.

     She was one of those rare females to whom sex was more than mere pleasure.  In her psyche it resembled air or water.  She consumed sex and her appetite always verged on starvation.

      “You should let Rodney Strong take her virginity,” said Lord Atherton as he handed his trousers to Malcolm, his valet and fellow sodomite.  He was casually getting undressed to join me in fucking his wife, my maternal aunt, whose sexual proclivities could best be described as insatiable and perverted to the extreme.  “Man is equipped like a stallion.  He’ll split her open and she’ll bleed like the Mapes girl.   That was a first fuck one does not forget easily.  What was the young cunt’s first name, Cecile?”

      I was almost asleep when Aunt Cecile arrived from London with her husband, Charlie.  My uncle, Lord Walshingham, had said his youngest sister and her husband would not be along until tomorrow but they had decided to drive down early.  That was doubtless due to my dear aunt’s love of my cock which at the moment, she was once again pressing deep into her throat, making the distinctive of a phallus penetrating that narrow passage.

     As was her want upon arriving, she threw off her clothes and jumped in my bed.  Moving quickly for a woman of fifty five, she peeled down the bed clothes, raised my night shirt and noisily engulfed my cock in her mouth.

     We’d begun as was her want with a spray of piss to coat her throat and in her words, “Prime her pump.”  Fortunately, I’d consumed several glasses of claret during our humiliation of the Chapmans so I took a deep breath and released my bladder.  The content was both voluminous and strong to my Aunt’s delight.    She favored the golden yellow variety and didn’t hesitate to complain of weak urine

     “Delightful, strong with some body,” complemented my Aunt smacking her lips after gulping down a dozen mouthfuls, enough to give her belly a noticeable roundness.  “There is nothing more disappointing than the taste of weak piss.”

     I had not realized my earlier encounter with Percy and Gwyneth had left me so randy.  My Uncle Walshingham had generously suggested that I repair to his boudoir with Cathy and him where the two of us would gallop the whore until she collapsed.  Afraid my Uncle’s ambitions with Cathy exceeded his capacities; I pleaded fatigue and retired to my room.  In five lust filled days aboard the Belgravia, I had not managed to ride that mare to a state of exhaustion.

     And on three occasions, her jockeys included, in addition to myself, the purser, cabin steward, and an engine room stoker named Caleb, renowned for the size of his member and its ability to remain erect until the job was done.  Throughout our quadruple assault on her virtue, Cathy seized on the rare opportunity when her mouth was not occupied to express, in terms so profane a fish monger’s wife would have blushed in shame, her desire for us to fuck her harder.

     Similar to my Aunt, she had a taste for the bladder’s drink when it had reached full strength.  She proudly displayed her appetite by kneeling before us holding a basin under her chin to catch any of the golden nectar she failed to swallow.  Once we four had emptied our reservoirs, she smiled, proclaimed, “Bottoms up,” and quaffed the basin’s contents in a single long drink.  I found her appetite for piss most impressive.   Her whorish talents had been a welcome bonus in my plan to transform the Chapman’s idyllic romance and marriage into something else entirely    

     Percy’s loutish behavior toward me had driven my desire for revenge.  A man I once called my best friend had not only elbowed me aside to acquire his bride but had done everything possible to diminish my standing in New York society.   The injury to my feelings was severe and compounded by their efforts to banish me from respectable company.

      Doors previously open at my arrival were now steadfastly shut.  The Chapmans and Percy in particular had conspired to pull the welcome mat from under my feet.  Reversing this sad state of affairs was my ultimate goal.  That it included the humiliation of Percy and the defilement of his bride was an added bonus.

     All this from one I had shared many fond memories of youth.  Percy and I had stared into each other’s face as Groton’s upperclassmen had sodomised our bowels.  That first night after we applied a healing salve to each other’s ravaged rosebud we had cried ourselves asleep in each other’s arms. 

     As a true friend, I had never reported Percy’s preference for his own sex not that I did not occasionally dally with my own gender. In a moment of pure whimsy while the other’s slept, I orally sampled the stoker’s wares and found myself most impressed with the prodigious amount of semen that filled my mouth.  Percy Chapman was not the only Groton alum who acquired a taste for cock; although I believe Percy’s appetite far exceeds my own.

     My plan had gotten off to an unexpectedly fortuitous start.  Mother Nature joined my conspiracy as rough seas prevented Percy from enjoying Gwyneth’s maidenhead.  Tomorrow night, he would witness her deflowering.  After that I had designs that would place the Chapman’s under my control for the future. 

      My belief that underlying Gwyneth’s genteel nature and Christian upbringing was a slattern waiting to be released had been encouraged by the wetness of her sex when my Uncle and I felt for her hymen.  In spite of the circumstances, there was a quickening of breath and the slightest of returned pressure indicating the presence of our digits in the entrance of her vagina was welcomed at some level.  Uncle Walshingham had opined that once properly cock-broken she would prove a true whore and amiable to the worst perversions known to the planet.  My Uncle is a man of the world and vastly knowledgeable in such matters; so I pray he is right.

     My Aunt took a break from choking herself with my dick to make a request.  “How about another squirt of piss for your favorite Aunt?”

     I relaxed the muscles inhibiting my flow and released the golden liquid to its welcoming vessel.  A few swallows later, my Aunt was most pleased with my contribution to her belly. 

      “You know, Henry, I was the first to drink your piss,” said Aunt Cecile, her lips stained with golden drops.  “Even before your dear mother.”

     “Really, I wasn’t aware of that,” I answered being unaware of the significance of being first.

     “You were only days old.  Your Mother was still recovering from your birth. And the nurse was occupied with tending to her so I offered to care for you.  You soiled your diaper and I was changing it when you peed into the air like a public fountain.  I couldn’t resist the temptation to be the first to drink your baby pee.  For an infant, you produced quite a few mouthfuls.”

     “What a wonderful story, Aunt Cecile,” I said feeling touched.

     “Now, give your old Auntie the kind of rogering, she deserves.  Charlie, hurry up.  I need my ass fucked too.”

     I was psychologically preparing myself to begin the rough treatment she preferred.  I am not prone to violence but to please my Aunt I would have to set aside my normally gentle nature and wail the daylights out of the good woman. My dear aunt’s idea of a good fuck always required a little blood to be spilt.

     “Choke on it, Aunt,” I said grabbing her head in one hand to force my cock down her throat while the fingers of my other hand closed off her nostrils.  I held her immobile until she began to shake with suffocation.  Upon release, she gasped for air as saliva poured over her lower lip.  Her smile indicated my brutal treatment was most welcome.

     My grandfather, unlike many of the aristocracy, did not neglect the sexual education of his two daughters.  He imported a tantric priestess from India to train them in the sexual practices of the orient.   Beginning at age twelve the two girls had been educated in all the perversities found in the Empire.  Their knowledge of ways to pleasure a man or woman was boundless and relied on positions and techniques developed over thousands of years.  Ashcroft Hall’s library was filled with rare manuscripts detailing such matters.

     The first time I witnessed my mother engulfing my father’s penis, only stopping when her face was pressed hard into his groin was one of my proudest moments growing up.   I truly marveled at the cobra like way her tongue slithered over her lower lip to caress his balls as her finger found its natural home in his rectum.

     My father, Marcus Pelham, appreciated my mother’s talents and introduced her to the sexual practices of the local Cherokee whose rapacious appetite for the wives of white men amused him greatly.  They often attended ceremonies of the tribes where Mother along with father’s sisters, Margaret and Amanda, were staked out naked on the ground for all the men of the tribe to enjoy.  During the wild savage dances that followed their prolonged rape, young boys and even the natives’ dogs participated in their ravishment.

     Sitting naked in the sweat lodge watching my father enjoy the chief’s daughters while listening to the moans and pleas of my mother and paternal aunts are among my earliest and fondest childhood memories.

     Unfortunately, Mother grew bored with the limitations of Lubbock and decamped to New York with its greater possibilities for amusements of the flesh. 

     My own tastes had become more American and in my British cousin’s view less refined.  In Harlem, I am an avid participant in the sweaty, grunting, animalistic sex I experienced in the arms of Negro winches and the occasional black man.  I firmly hold to the belief that the sexual capacity of people of color exceeds that of the white race.

     There was something I found irresistible about the sub human manner they approached breeding, representative of primitive man before being despoiled by civilization.   I planned to introduce Percy to Simone’s older brother Daniel when we returned stateside.   I wager Daniel’s cock will make him forget his love for the long dead Charlie Webber.

     My darling aunt demonstrated her attention to detail by inserting a moistened index finger in my rectum as she once more removed my cock to continue the earlier conversation.  “Charlie, Henry wants to do the honors himself.  The stupid cunt threw him over for Percival Chapman and revenge is absolutely mandatory.

     My Aunt was in truth wrong.  I did not seek Gwyneth’s humiliation but Percy’s.  We had been roommates and best friends at Groton.  We had been together that fateful night when Charlie Webber called us to the prefect’s office to train us in sodomy. 

     I had kept Percy’s secret all these years including his predilection at Yale for a tart whose repertoire included donning a faux penis and ramming it home while Percy repeatedly cried, “Fuck me. Charlie.  Fuck your Sarah.”

     Nor was it the fact that he captured the hand of Gwyneth’s and the possibility of her family’s money.  While I was nowhere near as rich as Percy, I was well fixed and lacked for nothing.   

     My desire for revenge was based on the manner in which he treated me after he won her hand.  His friendship had turned to enmity.  His family had spread rumors about my comportment, seeking to deny me entrance to society.  He had actually paid a flack to publish false stories in the gossip columns.

     Therefore when I learned of their plans to depart on the Belgravia immediately after the wedding ceremony, I decided to act.  Fortunately, I had an ally in Cathy, Gwyneth’s personal maid.  Cathy, due to some perceived injustice at the hands of her mistress, had proven all too willing to join me in the plot.  That combined with her eagerness to engage without hesitation in uninhibited sexual intercourse made her an ideal confederate.

     “Better let her up, Henry, she’s turning blue,” said Lord Atherton pointing out that I had become distracted by thoughts of revenge.  My poor Aunt’s throat was filled with hard cock and once again, my fingers had closed off her nostrils. 

     After a deep inhale to fill her starved lungs, my Aunt continued the conversation while wiping saliva from her eyes.  “Her name was Virginia Mapes and she was barely sixteen.  She’s Lord and Lady Smiley’s oldest girl.   Rodney might ruin Gwyneth with that weapon of his,” said Aunt Cecile.  Her free hand was between her legs, massaging her sex.  “Poor Virginia could not walk the next day.  She strained a muscle in her groin.”

     “But the cry she made when young Rodney broke her dam was positively glorious.  And the eye-popping expression on her face was one I shall never forget.  It was extraordinary.  That will be all, Malcolm,” said Lord Atherton dismissing the valet.

     “Very well, Milord,” said Malcolm.

     Knowing Malcolm’s predilection for rogering his bettors, I took the opportunity to add to Percy’s disgrace.  “Malcolm, Mr. Percy Chapman is in the care of Mr. Hornsby and his mates.  If you’re feeling a wee bit randy, you might drop by and slip your cock into Mr. Chapman’s asshole.  I’m sure he would appreciate it ever so much.  Give him my complements.”

     “Thank you, Mr. Henry, it will be my pleasure,” said Malcolm bowing as he left.

     I did not doubt that Malcolm would seek out Percy and add his cock to the population who’d enjoyed Percy’s butt hole.  My Uncle had informed me one of Mr. Hornsby’s men was a talented dresser who had worked in the Strand.  His mission was to transform Percy into the girl he truly desired to be.

     “I’ve been waiting for a special occasion to put these on the old girl.” said Lord Atherton approaching the bed holding a small wooden box finished in polished walnut. 

     “What is it?” I asked aware of Charlie’s love of intercourse that combined pain and pleasure.  He and my Aunt were well suited for each other.

     “Weighted tit clamps, put one on,” said Charlie opening the lid to reveal the handsomely made instruments of sexual torture.

     “Where did you get them,” I asked removing one of the objects which proved surprisingly heavy. 

     “India and they are lead weighted,” said Lord Atherton answering my unasked question.

    As Charlie took position at my Aunt’s rear, lining up his cock head with her vagina, I reached to take hold of her nipple which from hard use was a good inch long.  I pulled it outward, twisting the flesh, and creating a corkscrew effect.  When the flesh was fully wrapped on itself, I allowed the jagged teeth of the clamp to snap shut.

     The impact was quickly felt as my Uncle and I were forced to hold her in place to keep her from ripping off the offending instrument.  Her whimpers of pain reminded me of the sounds emanating from my parents bedroom during my formative years.  Is there any sound so sweet to the ear, as the cries of sexual pain from a dear female relative?

    Satisfied the clamp was properly placed, I released the heavy round ball causing my Aunt to once more shriek in misery.  Her dugs had grown at least an inch and tiny droplets of blood appeared where the sharp points of the clamp had broken the flesh.

     I handed the other clamp to my Uncle so he could do the honors.  Once she was fully engrossed in double pain, we began to fuck her in earnest.  Uncle and I frequently switched positions as we pleasured our cocks in her orifices.  Since we were both men of slender physique, we were able to position her orifices vertically then combine our cocks as one.  Our married phalluses stretched her openings, adding to her discomfort.  After stretching her vagina savagely open, we moved on to her anus.  Her screams testified to our success in pleasing her.

     In my view, there is nothing more manly that the feel of another man’s cock alongside your own, as you plumb the depths of a woman’s ass.   I cannot conceive of any greater form of male comradeship.  My Uncle and I stared in each other’s eyes savoring the manly bond between us.  We embraced and kissed as we slowly raised and lowered our bodies seeking to maximize her penetration.  Our hands circled one another’s waist, our fingers finding the way to each other’s sphincter.  Auntie’s tortured cries encouraged our effort.

     I made a mental note that before I left Europe, Percy and I would enjoy his Gwyneth in such a fashion.   Our friendship would be rekindled by the commingling of our cocks inside her rectum, an unmatchable act of male bonding.

     Having two cocks in her ass proved the tippler as first my Aunt and then my Uncle and I climaxed.  We spewed our seed into her gaping aperture.  Lord Atherton proved himself a true raconteur of love’s liquids by placing his mouth on Aunt Cecile’s open sphincter and extracting the contents.

     He quickly rolled my still orgasming Aunt onto her back and spit our combined semen into her mouth while brutally yanking off the breast clamps. 

      Even those in the furthest wing of Ashcroft Hall heard her scream of pain and pleasure.

      Exhausted I fell asleep between the two.