Sex in the Mausoleum


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by Cristiano Caffieri

As a child, Lady Broxmor spent three long years with a stepfather who abused her. At seventeen she ran away from home and lived rough. With her past experience of the male species and some of the slime she met on the streets, she developed a perverse desire to humiliate them – all of them.

At nineteen she was pretty, shapely and had a smile that could melt your pocket book. That’s when she met Lord Broxmor, he was old, terribly wealthy and actually lived in a castle.

Despite his family’s objections and the threat of law suits, they were married to great fanfare in the Broxmor parish church. For six years she managed to conduct herself in a reasonable ladylike manner, even though it was a strain sometimes. She never really loved her husband but gave him more sex than he really wanted, hoping to send him to an early grave.

It actually happened while she was sucking his dick one night. Suddenly he let out a loud and mournful cry and he was gone. He hadn’t treated her badly and so she felt obligated to give him the kind of send-off expected for someone of his status.

At the funeral, surrounded by hostile relatives, she drew gasps of admiration with her long flowing black gown. Several men got poked in the ribs by their wives as they couldn’t take their eyes off of her.
Over the next few days, the castle simply bristled with gentlemen callers, offering their condolences and all stressing their willingness to help in any way they could. That of course, meant they wanted to help her keep her vagina oiled and in working order. Nobody mentioned mowing the lawn or taking the trash out.

During the hectic days that followed, along with her faithfully retainer Shui, a mystic she brought back from a trip to Taiwan, she planned the future of the estate. She intended to hang onto her male employees as long as they were prepared to put up with her humiliating them. To make it more difficult for them to quit she gave everyone a substantial raise in pay including Captain Edwin Tatum, a man who was described himself as Lord Broxmor’s Equerry.

The captain had served in the same Guards regiment as her husband and continually talked of their exploits together. This most tedious habit and his tendency to be pretentious at times outweighed the fact that he was tall, dark and handsome. As he strutted around the estate, full of his own importance, he was unaware that he’d been slated for extreme humiliation.

Even after a respectable period of mourning, she intended to maintain the flowing black gowns indefinitely. The color suited her pale skin and long black hair, as it did Morticia in the Adams Family. Of course, her dressmaker was instructed to add a little sexiness by creating a long slit that exposed her leg when she walked or sat down. Her little fashion statement did not escape the attention of Captain Tatum.

Shortly after her husband’s send-off, she invited him into the Blue Drawing Room for a chat. She sat across from him and immediately noticed that he couldn’t avert his gaze from her long slender nylon clad leg. When he did manage to raise his eye line, his attention was simply diverted to her cleavage.

In spite of him appearing to be the epitome of English gentlemen, the Captain was wondering how the hell he could get into his mistress’s pants. And she was quite aware of it.

“I have been learning a lot from Shui regarding the recently departed,” she began, “In the tribal area of Taiwan, where she was brought up, it was customary for the widow to lie on the grave of her husband and some close friend of his would be intimate with her.”

Edwin almost swallowed his tongue,

“You mean…?”

“Yes – she got well and truly fucked.”

“I say that’s a bit naughty isn’t it?”

“Whatever we may think Captain, traditions have to be maintained. As a matter of fact, I was thinking that perhaps I should subject myself to the same ritual. It might help poor Harry’s spirit to move over to the other side.”

“Well – I suppose I was his best friend,” he stammered, beginning to drool at the mouth.

“Would you be prepared to fuck me in the mausoleum Captain?”

“In the mausoleum?” he repeated, with a quiver in his voice.

“Oh yes – we have to do it properly.”

He took a deep breath and decided that, although it was quite macabre, he would love to suck her tits and ram his cock into her even on a cold marble slab.

“I will do it for dear Harry,” he said, standing to attention and throwing up a salute.

It was all arranged for midnight. Lady Broxmor and Shui spent the afternoon in the mausoleum that was situated in the formal gardens, preparing for an evening of sexual humiliation. When the clock struck twelve the marble lined chapel-like structure was lit with dozens of candles and strange Chinese music was playing from a CD player concealed behind one of the columns.

The Captain had fought in any number of campaigns and had narrowly escaped death on several occasions, but when he walked through the door he was shaking like someone with the Doolalli Taps.
Lady Broxmor was lying on the top of her husband’s tomb just draped in a sheet of white silk. He could see the shape of her tits through it and in spite of the Gothic atmosphere his fears dissipated and he was ready for action. However, before he could approach her, Shui, dressed like a Ninja, complete with Samurai sword, barred his way.

“You take off clothes,” she commanded in her high pitched voice.

He would like to have kneed her in the cunt but he put his aggression aside and quickly stripped down to his balls. The marble tile was cold on his feet as he approached his quarry but his cock was hot, throbbing and pointing towards the ceiling.

Edwin had always been a bit short in the foreplay department and he just tore off the sheet, opened up her legs and rammed his dick into her. It was a bit of a shock. And even more so when he roughly grabbed her tits and proceeded to bang away as if he knew exactly what women liked.

She allowed him a few strokes and then she sat bolt upright almost breaking his shaft in half. He let out a yell that echoed above the Chinese music in the hollow mausoleum and he quickly withdrew.

“I say – that rather hurt,” he said, in that ‘upper-class twit voice’ of his, “Didn’t you like it?”

“Not really.”

“I say – I’d like you to know that I serviced women in 32 different countries and I’ve never had a complaint.”

“Well this is England, I’m your employer, and I’m calling the shots.”

Looking somewhat forlorn, as though he just been caught fucking his horse, he meekly agreed to follow her instructions. First, he had to use his fingers to gently play with the lips of her pussy, and then he had to run his tongue gently up and down her crack. She wouldn’t have admitted it to him but it felt really good, however, the fact that she was whimpering and holding on to his hair might have given him that impression.

He was now doing it for the honor of the regiment and he really put his heart and soul into it. His pussy flicker went into overdrive; he reached upwards to fondle her soft warm tits and made little animal grunts as if the lubrication that coated his tongue was really quite yummy.

When she was about to cum, her body began to tremble and she held on to his hair tighter and tighter.

“Holy fuck,” she cried, sliding her ass around on the shiny flat tombstone, “Holy fuck!” She lay back, opened her legs and invited him to ram his stiff cock into it.

Mumbling something about,”England expects every man to do his duty,” he gave it all he’d got. Going fast and furious, and getting quite red in the face, he was not prepared for the strategic maneuver the two women had planned for him. So when Shui crept up behind him to rest her small firm tits against his bareback and began to fondle his balls he went completely berserk.

His dick exploded like a like a patriot missile and it took a whole thirty seconds to pump his goo into her; it seemed to be a never-ending flow. Exhausted he sat down on a nearby grave to get his breath back, while Lady Broxmor and Shui grabbed his, and their clothes and made a hasty retreat.

When the door to the mausoleum slammed shut the Captain began to panic.

“My god, what are you doing,” he cried out, banging on the oak surface with both fists, “You can leave me here all night – I’m naked – I’ll freeze to death.”

“Don’t worry – we’ve made provisions for that,” came the reply.

At that moment someone stepped out of the shadows and Edwin almost shit himself. It was Nora, the big fat cook, completely naked with tits that look like two inflatable landing craft.

“Don’t you worry Captain Tatum sir,” she smiled, ”Her ladyship gave me a big cozy sleeping bag so I’ll be able to keep you warm tonight.” THE END

Copyright 2015 Cristiano Caffieri

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