Honeymoon Hell

Chapter 05 Dinner

          After my terrible ordeal with Mrs. Kline and her minions, I fell into a deep sleep. They awakened me toward noon with kisses and caresses, showing far too great a familiarity for servants.  One of the evils of sapphism is that it breaks down the natural order of things, causing those who serve to consider themselves the equal of their masters.  However, I returned their kisses with ardor, mindful of their superior will and capacity to do me harm.

    The prior day’s events had served to unmoor me from my natural inclinations toward morality and subservience to my Lord’s commandments.  My lack of worldly experience led me to overestimate my own steadfastness in the cause of righteousness and underestimate the power of Satan to bend me to his will. The experience had severely shaken my faith.  Like Nebuchadnezzar, I had been weighed in the balance and found wanting.

     I was served lunch where to my surprise I found myself ravenously hungry.  Mrs. Kline even remarked upon it.  “Our unbred she wolf has a good appetite.  Well eat hardy, Milady, for tonight you will feast on cock and cock will feast on you.”

      After lunch I was taken to more suitable quarters where I found my maid, Cathy, waiting as if nothing had happened. Under normal circumstances I would have terminated her employment on the spot informing her she would get no reference from me but I was too overwhelmed to take action against the disobedient and unfaithful servant.  She prattled on while she prepared my bath.

     “Lord Walshingham is quite the swordsmen.  It’s that long at least,” said Cathy illustrating the length of the Lord’s manhood with her hands.  Such conversation would have been unthinkable before yesterday.  I had often scolded Cathy for being too outspoken.  Her recent behavior forced me to reconsider my dismissal of the rumors that she allowed other male servants and even my Uncle Simon to enjoy her favors.

     “Did you have relations with him,” I asked while she removed my dressing gown?  I knew the answer already but found myself surprisingly eager to learn of her experience.

     “Oh yes, Milady, his Lordship had me twice, once in my pussy and the other, he insisted on sticking it in my bum.  He gave me a good rogering,” said Cathy with a wistful sigh indicating she practiced fornication without the slightest guilt.  I took that as proof of her sinful nature and the fact she was not raised in a Christian home.

     “He sodomised you,” I asked taken back by the thought a member of the aristocracy would perform such a perverted act on a servant.  I had always considered buggery the province of the lower classes, especially those whose livelihood brought them in close contact with animals; but obviously I was mistaken.  Sodomy in all its forms was as common as the air I breathed at Ashcroft Hall.

     Her answer was interrupted when she observed the effects of Mrs. Kline’s punishments on my person.  “Oh my God, Miss, you must have refused Mrs. Kline,” said Cathy noting the stripes across my back and the marks upon my breasts.  “Lord Walshingham said she would whip the hide off your back if you didn’t cooperate.”

     I fell into Cathy’s arms sobbing as I recounted the night’s happening in a rush.  “They whipped me to make me comply with their depraved desires.  They did terrible things to my breasts with pins and this torture instrument from the Punjab.  I thought I would go out of my mind with the pain.  I gave into their demands and performed unspeakable crimes against my nature. I was made to put my mouth on their sex to pleasure them.”

     “Miss Gwyneth, you must not refuse them anything because they’ll take great delight in making you suffer until you do it anyway.  So what’s the use of saying No when you are ultimately going to say Yes,” said Cathy closely examining my damaged breasts.

     “Did you hear anything about Mr. Chapman?” I asked between sobs although I must admit that Cathy’s gentle fingers on my bosom were causing my sex to feel warm and even, heaven help me, wet.  Mrs. Kline and the others had rendered me a debauchee that I feared no amount of prayer and penitence would overcome.  It was as Minister Woollcott preached, that once under the spell of the devil, the way back is hard if not impossible.  My own hand descended to touch my love button, causing a wave of pleasure to sweep over me.  There was no doubt I was under the control of the fallen angel.  

     “I heard Mr. Henry Pelham and his Lordship discussing Mr. Percy.  He spent the night in the servant’s quarters with Mr. Hornsby and his fellows,” said Cathy checking my bath water.

     “Why would he be with the servants,” I asked shocked that a man of my husband’s lofty position would be so ill used.

     “Sodomy, Miss,” said Cathy.  “Mr. Hornsby is a sodomite and prefers his men dressed as women.”

     “Oh poor Percy, he will not survive such unmanly behavior,” I cried out as I collapsed in a nearby chair.

     “Ma’am, he’ll be all right. According to Mr. Henry, sodomy was a daily occurrence at their prep school and the Master enjoyed it immensely,” said Cathy.  “He was a great favorite of the Head Prefect.  Mr. Chapman was very upset when he was killed in the war.”

     My first thought was that Henry was attempting to damage my Percy’s impeccable reputation.  “That’s a despicable lie.  Mr. Chapman would never willingly engage in such sinful practices.  Did you hear anything else?”

     “I overheard Mr. Henry telling his Lordship that he had secretly looked in on Mr. Chapman disporting with Mr. Hornsby,” said Cathy.

     “And what did he see?”

     “Mr. Chapman was dressed as a French tart dancing and singing for the other three.  Mr. Henry said Mr. Chapman was a true faggot and loved all forms of sodomy, especially having a big one in his bum and another in his mouth.”

     I felt faint for a moment then decided I must be strong for my husband “What an awful lie.  Let’s hear no more of this matter.  When I see my husband, he will dispel Mr. Henry’s words as nothing more than the calumnies of a man jealous of Percy’s position in society and the esteem others hold him in.”

    “Whatever you say, Milady, now let’s get you bathed.  Dinner is at eight o’clock and I was told to have you rested and ready,” said Cathy.

     The warm water and French milled soap cleaned the accumulated filth off my body and eased my bruises and cuts.  However, it could not cleanse the moral filth from my soul.  In less than twenty four hours, I had gone from a respectable bride to a wanton who responded to the touch of her female servant.  I had sunk as low as the sinful inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah; yet Lord Walshingham and Harry were not finished with Percy and me.  I shudder to contemplate what another day would bring.   

     It was after I was bathed and lying on the bed clad only in a warm dressing gown that I asked Cathy to hold and comfort me.  That had not been my practice in the past but I felt the need for solace even from someone who had betrayed me.  Cathy displayed her wanton nature by slipping off her dress and camisole allowing her bare body to press against my back.

      “I could tell you need a bit of cuddling,” said Cathy allowing one arm to wrap around me and slip inside my gown to rest on my breast.

      “What will happen to me tonight, Cathy?  Did you overhear them discussing my fate?” I asked. 

      “Yes, Mistress, your deflowering will be undertaken by Mr. Rodney Strong, Lord Burkett’s youngest son.  The Stapleton twins will assist Mr. Strong and be in charge of the event.  Mr. Chapman will be there along with the other members of the dinner party to view the ceremony,” said Cathy. 

     The prospect that my deflowering would be made a spectacle, viewed by others who would doubtlessly recount to an even wider audience was beyond my comprehension.  My reputation would be ruined! “I will be ravished in front of everyone by this Mr. Strong.  How perfectly awful!  Is he a friend of Mr. Henry?”

     Cathy caressed my breast and planted small intimate kisses on my neck and shoulders as she answered, “More of an acquaintance actually.”

     Once again, I found it impossible to control my wantonness.  My nipples became hard and extended as my sex grew warm.  Satan sent his liquor to my vulva from what must be an inexhaustible supply.  Cathy’s fingers glided over my love button, teasing the opening to my virgin vagina stimulating its appetite.  In my mind, it took on the role of another hungry mouth begging to be fed.  Still, the choice of this Mr. Strong struck me as odd.  “I thought Mr. Henry would rape me to humiliate my husband.  Why was this Mr. Strong chosen?” I asked.

     “I gather it has to do with the size of his manhood,” said Cathy slipping the tip of her tongue into my ear causing a wave of pleasure to sweep over my body, even my toes curled.  “It is reported to be of a prodigious size.  Apparently, Mr. Strong is frequently employed by parents of young girls to deflower them while others look on.  According to one of the maids, he deflowered a young girl here at Ashcroft Hall a fortnight ago.  She was only sixteen.  They say it was quite the sight with his cock so large and her pussy hole so small.  She fainted dead away when he split her cherry. They say you could hear it pop from across the room.  But after she was revived and given a brandy, she responded with enthusiasm to his thrusts making her parents proud.”

     “I don’t understand any of this,” I said dejectedly.  I was going to lose my honor to a perfect stranger.  How absolutely beastly for Percy and me!  I so much wanted Percy to be my first.  My marriage would never be the exclusive union of two kindred souls that I had hoped.  “Will there be many others there?”

     “Yes, but I can’t remember their names except for Lord Cranmere and his party.  Apparently, someone famous named Sir Oswald Mosley and his wife, Lady Diana Mitford Guinness, will attend.  Sir Oswald is a politician and they say his wife is the most notorious and beautiful woman in all of England.”

     Cathy’s hands traveled between my breasts and my sex, inflaming the embers of desire to where hot tongues of fire consumed by soul.  I considered objecting to such familiarity but when I opened my mouth only a sigh of pleasure issued and I placed my hand on the back of hers to signal her touch, no matter how profane, was welcome.  I relaxed back onto the bed, arching my back, and allowed Cathy to move down and apply her mouth to my sex.  Later, she climbed on me to allow my tongue to invade her vagina while she returned the favor.   I wrapped my arms around her buttocks, hugging her tightly to my mouth.  Her fluids covered my face as I forced it between the folds of her vulva.  The warmth of her flesh upon my face propelled me into a state of ecstasy, overwhelming any reservations about my actions.  I had passed from a state of grace to one of lust.

     We stayed thus until I felt a powerful, undeniable wave of pleasure wash over me.  The first wave was followed by others, each one crashing onto my being until I was exhausted and out of breath.  Cathy must have experienced the same because we writhed together, rolling across the bed, giving and receiving pleasure, exulting the sin that date not speak its name.

     When we were totally spent, I fell into a deep sleep with Cathy’s arms around me.  It was almost dark when two woman of great and identical beauty arrived.  They introduced themselves as Jenny and Cora Stapleton, twin daughters of the Duke of Somerset.

     “We will be directing the taking of your virginity.  This is what you will wear,” said Jenny holding up a diaphanous gown which would display all my most private parts.

     “But first we must fix your hair and darken your nipples and vulva,” said Cora.  “That will make you more exciting to the eye.”

     Utterly defeated and quiescent, I sat quietly while they rouged my nipples and labia.

     Their ministering to my appearance was not without a moment of humiliation.  As Cora was rubbing the substance over my labia changing the pink flesh to vermillion, her finger disappeared into my vagina.

     “Oh, you naughty girl, your sweet pussy is positively gushing,” said Cora withdrawing the glistening digit and holding it up for all to see before placing it in her mouth and remarking, “You taste as sweet as honey.”

     I had no response.  Lucifer had gained dominion over my soul.  I was destined to be his creature that night and perhaps for all nights.  I could only hope that my Savior, Jesus Christ, would take pity on me and return me to a state of grace.

     “You have beautiful skin,” said Jennifer applying makeup to my areola.

     “Your breasts are exquisite.  I’m sure all the gentlemen will want to suckle them,” said Cora.

     “And we ladies too,” said Jennifer laughing as she reached down to plant a kiss upon the areola.

     “What do you think,” asked Cora when they were finished and I stood before a mirror?

     The effect was startling.  My ruby breasts and sex stood out underneath the gown which concealed nothing.  A rope of fine pearls had been intertwined in my hair.

     “You look incredibly beautiful, Miss Gwyneth, like a goddess,” said Cathy.

     “Every man present will take you.  That’s traditional,” said Cora pushing an errant curl in place.

     “Someone’s pussy will be sore tomorrow,” said Jennifer laughing.  “But that is as it should be.”     

     A half hour later, I entered the glittering main dining room where over forty guests were already seated; but they immediately jumped to their feet and began clapping.  I took heart from their enthusiastic applause and shouts of approval of my appearance, wanton as it may be.

     The twins escorted me to the head of the table where I was seated between Lord Walshingham and Harry Pelham who I refused to acknowledge.  However, that did not prevent him from placing his hand between my legs to feel my sex.

     “You’re wetter than the blackest whore in Harlem,” said Harry massaging my sex.  He even slipped a finger inside my opening to reconfirm the presence of my hymen. 

     Lack of knowledge rendered his comparison meaningless.  The events of the last twenty four hours had tapped into a hidden spring between my legs.  Upon another’s touch, it flowed beyond my control.  The spring’s output must be exceptional because all who had placed their hands upon it remarked on its volume.

     Harry’s forked fingers acting as a diving rod dowsed the spring’s location eliciting a low moan from the back of my throat. 

     “Hear that, Sarah,” said Harry speaking to the female seated at his right.  “Your bride’s pussy becomes a mountain spring at the slightest touch, the sign of a true whore.  I daresay every man here will drink of her waters before the cock crows.”

     “If she is a whore, it is because you made her one, Harry.  I will never forgive you for what you have done,” said Sarah mater of factly.

     The voice was unmistakable.  It was Percy dressed as a woman.  I had not recognized my own husband his disguise was so excellently executed.   My mouth fell open in amazement.  Percy is slight of build and has delicate features as do all the Chapman men.  Someone with considerable skill had selected his clothes, jewels, and wig then expertly applied makeup with the result my husband made a most attractive female albeit one whose attire suggested a woman of the brothel. My heart sank at the prospect that Cathy’s stories were correct.  I could not rely on Percy to bring me back to the path of righteousness.  He too had succumbed to the ways of the wicked.

     His disguise was remarkably complete.  A blonde wig emulated the cheap hair style worn by shop girls on the streets of New York.  His jewelry was of the cheap and tawdry sort, the kind sold by Mr. Macy’s department store.  The makeup and dress were of the latest style although the skirt’s hem was far shorter than what I considered respectable.  The tops of his hose and garters were visible to me.  More shocking was the presence of Lord Cranmere’s hand on his knee.

     One of my friends at school had spoken of clubs where men dress as women but I had not believed such a thing possible.  To my utter amazement, Percy made a passable even pretty female.  When I caught his eye, he smiled encouragingly at me and blew me a kiss.  My duty as a wife required that I return his smile.  Regardless of circumstance I was still Mrs. Percy Chapman and I owed him my loyalty.

      I could only assume that just as I had fallen under Satan’s spell so had Percy.  His sweet innocent nature had been overwhelmed by the tortures and blandishment of Lord Walshingham’s staff.   That brute Mr. Hornsby had sodomised my husband and forced him to dress and be treated as a woman.

     “A toast to the bride and groom,” said Lord Walshingham rising to his feet.  Everyone else started to stand, myself included, but Harry put his hand on my shoulder and pressed me back in my seat.

      Lord Walshingham raised his champagne glass and spoke the most singular toast ever heard by human ears.  “Family, friends, and honored guests, tonight, we are here to witness the taking of Mrs. Gwyneth Drew Chapman’s virginity.  We are honored that she and her husband, Mr. Percy Chapman have chosen to share this solemn occasion with us.  I’m sure we all agree as to the extraordinary beauty of the bride.  Her spouse who has favored us by dressing as his alter ego, Sarah, is equally attractive.  My old friend, Lord Cranmere, informed me minutes ago, that before the night’s done, he intends to enjoy Sarah’s charms to the fullest.  Good health and long life to the bride and groom.”

      A chorus of, “Hear, hear,” filled the room as the assemblage finished their champagne and tossed the glasses in the grand fire place shattering them.

     At that moment, a servant placed a soupcon of lobster bisque before me.  This was followed by sorbet then a plate of fruit and cheese.  I was almost afraid to look at Percy.  I didn’t know what to think.  Lord Cranmere had his arm around my husband drawing him close for kisses of the least respectable sort.  Percy did not object, intertwining his tongue with his partners. 

     Wine glasses were kept full as the guest imbibed alcohol on a monumental scale.  The conversation was less than edifying, consisting of accounts of orgies and other deflowering.  There was much talk of sexual practices of the heathen lands in the far reaches of Britain’s empire.

     It was after the excellent fruit course consisting of pears in a Madeira cream sauce that Cora and Jennifer conducted me around the table so that each guest could feel my hymen thereby assuring them that I was virgin.  Several of the guests remarked upon its thickness and even questioned whether Mr. Strong’s cock was capable of penetration.

     Lady Smythe who I took to be in her eighties informed me about a niece of hers whose deflowering had not gone well.  Her description did not shy from blasphemy.  “All the male guests gave her a go, but their dicks bent like willow branches when they thrust inward.  The poor girl shrieked like a banshee as her virtue was assaulted.  Who would have thought a fifteen year old capable of developing such a cover.  We all laughed that she must have been destined for a nunnery since there she would find in Jesus Christ, a groom capable of breaking down her door.  Fortunately, Lord Marston, a surgeon, was present.  It took four men to hold her down while he carved out her hymen with a scalpel.   It was thick as shoe leather and just as tough.  He preserved it in formaldehyde and sent if off to the British museum.”

     I resolved to be polite in view of her advanced age.  “That’s a very intriguing story, Mum.  I pray I will not be of similar difficulty.”

    Lady Smythe’s hand caressed my breast as her finger tested my virginity.  “I am confident that Mr. Strong will split you open like a melon, My Dear.”

    I was finally introduced to Mr. Rodney Strong.  He was a most handsome young man with golden blonde hair similar to my own.   His visage and physique reminded me of the statutes of Greek gods found in New York’s Museum of Fine Arts. 

     “She will be a challenge,” said Mr. Strong his fingers delicately touching my maidenhead.

     “Rodney, show Mrs. Chapman, your cock,” said Cora.

     “Yes, show her, Rodney, it is most impressive, the first time Rodney fucked me I could barely walk the next day,” said Jennifer.

     With obvious pride, Mr. Strong unbuttoned his trousers and extracted a penis of such length and girth, I felt faint.  I could not imagine how such an object could possibly fit inside my opening.

     “Give it a kiss, Mrs. Chapman,” said Cora placing his penis in my hand which was not able to encompass its girth.  It felt surprisingly heavy and its warmth and energy radiated up my arm.  It struck me as more of an object of the devil than one for procreation.  Still, it was marvelously smooth with a helmet whose red hue bespoke its ferocity.  My knees weakened as I contemplated penetration by such a weapon.

     Mesmerized by contact with such a formidable appendage, I leaned over and took the tip in my mouth and flicked my tongue across the hole where urine was expelled.  Its heat was palpable and I found myself seeking to take more of it into my mouth.

     “That’s enough for now,” said Cora pulling me away.  “After dinner, you will take all of it.”

    My presence did not prevent the company from speaking ill of America.  I ignored their lack of good manners.       

     “America will never be a great nation as long as they allow their women to avoid intercourse until they’re married,” said Lord Cranmere whose one hand was working mischief in Percy’s lap.  I could see that Percy’s skirt was pulled up and the head of his erect cock was visible.  Periodically, his lordship bent over to take it in his mouth making loud sucking sounds that filled the room; when not thus engaged, his hand was sliding up and down the shaft.  “What say you, Walshingham?”

     “It’s a nation of whores and whoremongers,” said Lord Walshingham reaching into my gown to pinch my nipple.  “Present company accepted.”

     “I’ve heard young Harry here has a taste for blacks,” said Lord Cranmere.

     “Their earthy nature I find highly attractive,” said Harry fondling my other breast.

     Around the table, male guests were taking advantage of the females, kissing and feeling their breasts.  Lord Walshingham and Harry made free use of mine, commenting on their beauty as they pulled my nipples and fondled my bosom.  Frequently, the females would lean into the laps of the males and take their cocks in their mouths.  Caligula, himself, could not have designed a more orgiastic scene.

     Many of the women had shed their gowns, leaving them clad in what I later learned was a French corset that narrowed their waist while thrusting their breasts upward exposing the tops and in many cases their nipples; which like mine were rouged to make them more visible.  The bottom of the corset was trimmed in marabou.  Lace garters supported their stockings.  The underpants were scandalously sheer and barely covered their sex.  It was the attire of the bordello.

      Still the debauchery of the dinner guests knew no bounds as they competed in outrageousness.  A strikingly attractive woman I later learned was Lady Guinness announced she preferred to dine in the nude.  Without the slightest hesitation, she climbed on the table and undressed, leaving only her stockings and shoes.  Her figure was extraordinary with long limbs and a most unusual sex whose labia seemed missing while her love button protruded in an unnatural way.  I was later to learn this was not an accident of nature.

     Taking her stance in the center of the long table, she demonstrated extreme flexibility by bending at the waist and placing the crown of her head on the table.  Her graceful arms reached back to separate her buttocks exposing her pink anus to the diners. To the guest’s amusement, she broke wind producing a volume of sound I considered extraordinary.  I could not recall its superior other than the time I visited a dairy farm in Vermont and heard the milk cows producing vast quantities of gas.  Lady Guinness curtsied to loud applause and shouts of, “Well done, Diana,” before resuming her seat.

    It as at this point that I observed Lady Atherton and Lady Penelope Beaconsdale, respectively Lord Walshingham’s sister and daughter, moving from one male guest to another performing oral sodomy.  As each man was brought to orgasm, they captured his ejaculate in a crystal goblet.

     It was after the fish course that I was able to observe this at close range as they first exposed then applied their mouths to Lord Walshingham’s manhood which was every bit as large as Cathy had illustrated.   Incest was no impediment as Lady Atherton took one of her brother’s testicles in her mouth while Lady Penelope engulfed her father’s penis.   The efforts were neither subtle nor ladylike.  Lady Penelope, for example, kept looking her father in the eye as she ran her tongue over the head of his penis all the while urging him to stand and deliver a sizeable volume of his essence. 

     It was my first opportunity to view the act that my mother in her premarital talk had stated I must be ready to perform in order to keep Percy’s love.  At the time, I considered her information along with the implication that she often performed such an act upon my father shocking.  I had hoped that Percy would not require my participation in such an unnatural act. 

     However, their obvious pleasure in its performance made me want to join them, further proof that Satan had his talons in my soul.  I resolved that in the future should Percy request I perform oral sodomy I would eagerly agree in my role as his loyal and faithful wife.

     After Lord Walshingham, the pair performed their act of dual sodomy on Harry who quickly contributed to the goblet bringing it to one third full.  That these two women, members of the aristocracy, had elicited upwards of twenty donations without the slightest concern for morality I found amazing.  Added to my amazement was that one of the guests was a local vicar. 

     Harry took the goblet from the two ladies who seemed disappointed they were finished and climbed onto the dining table.  He had not redone his trousers and his manhood, still glistening with his relative’s saliva was fully exposed. 

     I watched transfixed as he aimed his penis toward the goblet and proceed to urinate.  He stopped several time to check the goblet’s fullness ending at the two thirds level.  He then proceeded to pour champagne into the glass until it was full then stirred the concoction the purpose of which I was about to learn. 

     “Stand up beside me, Gwyneth,” said Harry reaching his hand to mine.  Lord Walshingham lifted me to the table and once again I found myself the center of attention. 

     Harry whispered into my ear.  “You must drink this.”

     His suggestion was revolting and I replied in that vain.  “Absolutely not!”

     As Cathy had pointed out, resistance was useless.  “If you don’t, I’ll hang you by your tits and whip you until you beg me to drink it.  Or maybe you would prefer I string Percy up by his balls and see if they rip off?”

      I was not prepared to endure such a horrible punishment for myself or Percy.  “I’ll drink it.”

     Harry made a show of my humiliation.  After calling for everyone to be quiet and pay attention, he made his announcement.  “It is time for our bride to consume the Virgin’s Potion which every man here has contributed to.”  He held up the goblet for all to see then handed it to me.

     Realizing I had no choice, I smiled at my audience then raised the foul concoction to my lips.  Determined not to allow Harry Pelham to get the better of me, I steeled myself to the task and in a single long draft consumed the goblet’s contents then tossed it into the fireplace.  The taste was not as bad as I had thought.

     Once more, Lucifer played a role and I felt warmth between my legs for having performed such a perverted act in front of others.  While I drank, he guided my hand to my sex for a vigorous stroking.  The pleasure of my own touch created a wave of pleasure so profound I would have fallen unless Harry held me up. 

      Cries of “Well done,” “Here, here,” and “That’s a girl,” filled the air as I performed my own curtsy. 

     I had barely taken my seat when Lord Walshingham announced that after the beef entrée, Mr. Percy Chapman would be entertaining us.