Jason stood close to the end of the long polished dining table, his thick cock erect and pulsing in excited little spasms. The foreskin was rolled back along the great shaft to expose the huge, bulbous head. He was totally naked save for the black bow tie around his neck and in his hands he held a silver serving tray. Draped over his forearm was a starched linen napkin with ornate initials in red embroidered on the corner. Dutifully he stood erect and silent beside his mistress.
Arabella, seated and fully dressed, ate with her right hand; her left hand rested between Jason's thick muscular thighs from the rear, her fingertips teasing at the rear of his firm ball-sac.
In the large dining hall of the manor all was silent, just the occasional chink of a fork against plate and the odd whimper of delight from Jason to break that stillness.
At thirty-two years old, Arabella was in prime condition. Tall and slim, with jet-black hair that fell to her shoulders and deep, dark smouldering eyes, her appearance fitted perfectly her title of 'Lady.' Well-educated at only the best of schools, refined and socially acceptable within the upper circles of society in which she moved, Arabella was every bit the Lady of the Manor. Being extremely wealthy too helped tremendously to maintain the luxurious and carefree lifestyle that she led.
She didn't flinch or show even the faintest hint of surprise or revulsion as Jason grunted and then sighed loudly. His cock twitched in excited little jerks to pump forceful spurts of thick sperm jetting onto the polished surface of the table close to her plate.
Almost casually Arabella removed her hand from between Jason's thighs, picked up her cotton napkin and dabbed carefully at the side of her mouth.
"Well Jason?" her polished accent demanded.
"Madam," he said loudly. "I apologise and will clean the table immediately."
Arabella sat back in her chair, crossed her legs and smoothed her delicate hand over the tight riding jodhpurs that she wore.
"Unacceptable!" she stated firmly and then softened her tone. "Totally unacceptable."
"Yes Madam."
"Face me!" she snapped.
The servant turned as directed, his semi-erect cock swinging down between his thighs and a little string of sperm hanging down from the eyehole.
"Have I not told you before to control yourself?"
"Yes, Madam, you have indeed."
There was an air of hopelessness in her voice as she reprimanded the tall muscular man.
"Yes! Yes I most certainly have Jason. You know full well that following dinner I like nothing better than to suck a cock and taste sperm – you have deprived me of such pleasure today."
His voice was low and full of remorse.
"Madam, I apologise."
"Huh!" She snorted in derision, her anger beginning to spill out. "And what good is an apology to me now?"
He didn't reply but stood erect and silent awaiting the further lashing of her harsh tongue.
"You will be punished! Most severely punished – now get out and send Paul to me this instant."
"Yes Madam," he muttered and walked quickly away.
The small coffeehouse in the large shopping mall was bustling with mid-morning customers. Natalie and Claire seated themselves at a table close to the wrought-iron railings. It was more a meeting place than a coffee shop; a place for the young and elderly alike to gather and gossip. A place for weary shoppers to rest their feet and bags during their spending sprees, the coffee shop was always crowded.
"Guess what," Claire said with a hint of intrigue in her voice. "I Received an in invitation the other day – from Arabella – remember her from the sixth form at…"
"You too?" Natalie interrupted. "I got one from her yesterday."
Claire rummaged in her handbag as she spoke.
"A reunion perhaps."
"Must be, although that bitch always thought herself too good to associate with the likes of us. I'm surprised that she even remembered our names."
Claire handed the card across the table, turning it so as to read it at the same time as her friend.
"There we are. Friday the eighteenth at 8 am."
"That's morning," Natalie pointed out. "Must be an error."
Claire read the invitation card again and shrugged her shoulders.
"It says 8 am but must be wrong."
"Are you going?"
Claire sat back, pausing to order two cappuccinos from the waitress hurrying past.
"Might be fun. Be good to see some of the old faces again – remember that skinny girl? Redhead she was, can't remember her name."
Natalie wasn't listening; she was totally absorbed in reading her own invitation card.
"Did you say the eighteenth?"
Claire's head turned, following the progress of a youth in a pair of tight jeans that pulled harshly across his firm backside. She sighed wistfully and giggled.
"What? Sorry, other more important things to view first."
"My invitation is for the twenty-seventh."
Claire looked at her friend quizzically and reached across to take the card.
"You're right. That's over a week later. What the hell is going on?"
"Search me, that rich bitch always was a bit dizzy, she never could count."
Claire was unconvinced, Arabella was anything but dizzy. Cold and calculating with a sharp mind and a twisted outlook on life perhaps but never dizzy. When it came to socialising Arabella had excelled, cold and aloof at times she may have been, but hugely popular at parties and gatherings. It was her charge; the time in her life when she really came alive, all of her social events were planned with almost military precision and nothing left to chance. A mistake such as this Claire couldn't see Arabella making.
"Wonder if Amey got one?"
"Or Louise," Natalie added; now sharing a little of her friend's concern.
Claire stood and picked up her handbag.
"Simply have to know, I'll phone Amey now."
"But your coffee! It'll get cold."
Claire wriggled past the backs of the chairs close to their table.
"The phone box over there," she nodded to indicate the direction. "Two minutes and I'll be back."
"Well?" Natalie asked eagerly as her friend returned.
Claire slumped heavily back down in her chair.
"Different date and even a different month. I phoned Louise too, different dates yet again."
Natalie looked bewildered.
"So what the hell is going on?"
Claire shrugged, her gaze distant and detached.
"Haven't the faintest idea – but I mean to find out."
With a thick mane of blonde hair, his flashing blue eyes and muscular build Paul looked the epitome of health and fitness. A thick neck and broad shoulders, his deeply sculptured chest and stomach all bore testament to his regular workouts in the gym. Bulging biceps and heavy thighs added to the overall appearance of sheer power that he possessed. Like Jason and all of the mistress's servants, he wore a black bow tie around his neck as standard dress and was otherwise totally naked.
He was seated now, his backside perched on the very edge of the dining table and his legs splayed one either side of Arabella's chair. He was rested back and supporting himself on his outstretched arms, his stiff cock jutting out in front.
Arabella's delicate hand gripped his pulsing shaft, her fingers closing around its great girth, the red nails standing out in deep contrast to the pale skin of his cock. Her left hand stroked lightly and sensually at his powerful thigh, her fingers kneading and feeling in a rhythmic exploration of pure delight.
Paul groaned deeply and tensed his body as her thumb rubbed lightly across the top of his glans; the velvety head throbbed its delighted response.
The mistress lowered her head, her blood-red lips making just the lightest of contact with the eyehole of his cock. Moving her head from side to side she smeared his drop of lubrication with her soft pouting lips, massaging it lovingly all around the bulbous dome. Throughout, Arabella sighed and moaned her pleasure as his obvious excitement increased. Her left hand slid up to cup his swollen scrotum, her fingers teasing as she cupped his balls tenderly in her palm.
Paul grunted, his thighs twitched in involuntary spasm in reaction to her teasing touch. His head slunk back; eyes closed and mouth open as he bathed in the sensations washing over him. He gasped as her soft warm mouth enveloped the head of his cock to take it into her wet, warm cavern. The blonde servant cried out as her tongue flicked lightly across the very tip in sensitive teasing that brought him close to his peak. That cry turned to a low animal-like growl as the very tip of her tongue drilled down into the tiny eyehole of his pulsing cock.
Arabella received a terrific jolt low in her vulva as his thick, warm sperm jetted into her mouth. Gripping contractions pulsed her internal muscles to produce delightful little spears of electric sensation. Her nipples tingled and her anus gripped as spurt after spurt of his thick cream shot deep into her throat. She mewed contentedly as his orgasm shook his body to emit further little jets of sperm in erratic surges. Some spilled from her lips as she used her tongue to lap and taste every last drop of sperm from the blonde Adonis.
At length she sat back, both her hands resting on and caressing lovingly at his thighs.
"Your first dinner duty as my newest servant isn't it Paul?"
"Yes Madam," he replied throatily.
She smiled broadly dabbing at her mouth with the napkin.
"And most certainly not your last," she muttered softly to herself.
It was almost a standing joke between the four girls, a different colour and style of hair for each of them. Claire was the brunette with a short but neatly cropped style, Louise tall and blonde, Amey petite and auburn haired whilst Natalie had fair hair but darker than blonde. They sat around the lounge in Claire's home sipping coffee and discussing the possibilities as to Arabella's invitations.
"It all sounds very mysterious and exciting," Amey giggled. "A bit like the famous five stories."
The others shot her an incredulous stare and giggled in derision then resumed the normal dissecting of the information to date. Louise took it upon herself to summarise.
"Okay then, Arabella has invited us all…"
"All at differing times and dates," Amey interrupted.
Louise ignored her interruption and continued.
"But not to one function. The dates are spread across four months, one of us each month – so why?"
Natalie shifted her seat on the settee to sit on her legs.
"I never trusted her at school and I don't feel inclined to trust her now."
"Couldn't we simply phone her and ask?" Amey said brightly.
Claire offered her view.
"Tried that, spoke to her this morning. She was very evasive on the phone."
"See! Told you so," Natalie added.
"It gets even more mysterious though," Claire continued. "She wouldn't divulge a thing but said instructions would be sent shortly."
"Huh!" Louise snorted in disgust. "Instructions indeed! Just who the hell does she think she is to instruct us?"
Claire's calming voice added a probable solution to her friend's question.
"How to get there I think she probably meant."
Louise nodded silently, flushing slightly at her impetuous outburst.
"I still don't like it," Natalie stated.
Claire sighed heavily.
"So what do we do then? Accept or refuse?"
"If you, Claire," Amey offered. "As the first of us invited, go along next month and if it should be bad – tell the rest of us."
"Thanks," Claire said sarcastically."
"I think she has a point," Natalie chipped in. "One of us has to be first and could keep the others informed – what is Arabella likely do to us anyway? Eat us for God's sake!"
"Probably," Louise muttered.
"It was an invitation after all and not a command," Amey said in a rare moment of sensibility. "We don't have to go."
Claire sat silently for a few moments pondering the possibilities.
"Okay!" she stated firmly. "I'll accept and see just what the rich bitch is up to."
The subject changed and much chattering and giggling followed, Claire however, sat silently, an indefinable feeling gnawing away inside her.
Her long stiletto-heeled boots clicked noisily on the stone slabs of the terrace as Arabella stepped out onto them. She paused at the top of the wide stone steps and stretched lazily. Her favourite black leggings hugged her slim hips and pulled tightly across the firm swell of her buttocks. At the front, they followed the contours of her firm mound and pulled satisfyingly close to her labia, the bump of her clitoris prominent near the top. They did so emphasis her slender thighs and long legs to, almost perfection she felt, they also added to that commanding air that she carried about her.
A light tee shirt in white pulled harshly across her chest to show the swell of her ample breasts to good effect and to leave a couple of inches of bare mid-drift at the hem. Her long nipples pushed hard against the flimsy material to stand out in prominence from the swelling orbs.
Below her all were ready, standing in two lines on the emerald green lawns of the lower terrace. Ten in all, young, male, all powerfully built and well-endowed, she liked her servants so very much. Naked and silent they waited her arrival; Paul being the latest recruit had never seen a punishment ceremony and it was partly for his benefit that it was being held today.
Her expression became serious as she looked beyond the two lines of naked servants to the whipping post beyond. Jason, the premature ejaculator was tied securely to the heavy wooden cross. Naked and facing the framework he was stretched and bound as if in reverse crucifixion.
Slowly and deliberately Arabella moved down the steps, the riding crop in her hand striking nosily against the side of her boot as she moved between the two lines of men. It thrilled and excited her to have such command, the thought of these fit young men all wanting her pushed her level of arousal higher still.
Their hungry eyes roamed her body as she moved past them, searching and probing at her breasts and buttocks, her thighs and her thinly veiled pussy. Bolts of electric sensations shot through her at the thought and she slowed her pace to take full advantage of them.
"Jason," she announced loudly as she reached the whipping post and turned theatrically. "Is guilty of robbing your mistress of her after dinner pleasures."
She slashed the crop back and forth menacingly in the air for effect.
"Today," she raised her voice above the wind blowing across the large estate. "He will be rewarded for that failure."
She stepped to the side, positioned herself and adopted a set and firm stance. She adjusted her body, weighed the crop in her hand and pulled her arm back.
Jason's body locked rigid and a pained grunt emitted from him as the crop struck. A savage lash stung his bare buttocks to send a stripe of searing pain racing through his body and to his brain.
"Count to fifteen!" Arabella screeched excitedly and raised the crop high above her shoulder.
"One!" Jason shouted loudly and then yelped as the second blow cut across his taught buttocks.
"Two!" he shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.
Again Arabella lashed and then again in a series of harsh and meaningful swipes that thwacked down hard on his soft flesh. In time with his counting she rained the blows on him, each sickeningly painful stroke of the crop sent electric charges of sensation rushing through her. In a wild frenzy of high sexual arousal she stung him with increasing savagery, wielding the crop deftly with her expert hand. At the fifteenth stroke she paused, her breathing laboured and excited, panting hard from her exertions. Her body throbbed with excitement, her clitoris was hard and pressing against the tight material of her leggings. The material of her tee shirt rubbed across her sensitive nipples with each movement of her body to further excite.
A glance around his front showed clearly that in his pain he had achieved orgasm, globules of his thick seed trickled down the central post and stained the grass below.
Her pussy was wet, her nipples firm and her hard clitoris throbbed its aching need for sexual release. Arabella was pulsing with excitement, punishment sessions always seemed to bring out the very best in her along with that compelling and irresistible urge to have a cock up inside her. Beating a man, punishing him so soundly and made all the better by ten leering men wanting to have her body. They would be imagining what lay beneath her thin clothing, her silky soft skin and puffy pussy lips. Her firm breasts and rosy pink nipples, her taut little buttocks an her sweet little anus.
She moved quickly between the two rows of young men, pulled down her leggings and panties and got down onto all fours. A quick nod of her head to him brought Claude, the big athletic black boy, eagerly around behind her. He positioned his big cock at the entrance to her pussy and pushed fully home up inside her. Both his hands gripped her hips to pull her slim frame hard back onto him as he began a frantic pumping into her. Large and powerfully built, he had an athletic body that glistened like ebony in the bright daylight, the stamina that he possessed seemed almost without end.
Arabella's mouth hung open, her head and body shaking in time with Claude's powerful thrusting as his hips crashed against her soft buttocks. It excited Arabella to be had whilst the others watched; their cocks rising to erection in need, all of them wishing that it could be them serving the mistress.
She arched her back, her head threw up and she began to wail. A low and animal-like howling of deep satisfaction as the thick cock pumped urgently into her. Arabella met his thrusting, forcing herself hard back onto him to gain the whole length of his cock deep up inside her soft interior. Her body locked and shook in violent tremors of pleasure. She grunted and her head hung down between her arms, for a moment or two she fell silent and then screamed aloud as she came.
Claude pulled out of her, his huge cock rearing up to spurt a thick stream of his sperm onto Arabella's buttocks and lower back. He pressed hard against his mistress's backside and rubbed himself to a slow finish as he knew she liked him to.
Paul, never having seen such a spectacle moaned as his cock jerked. At first just a little dribble of his seed appeared then his cock jetted long spurts of his sperm forcefully out in front of him. Paul's great excitement Arabella noted, and it pleased her greatly.
Claire was alone, the red-silk robe the only material covering her otherwise naked body as picked up the thick manila envelope from the doormat. With a mug of steaming coffee in hand she settled herself at the kitchen table and tore the envelope open.
Different, weird even, the instructions from Arabella were precise if a little strange. A surge of excitement rushed through Claire's body as she read them aloud to herself. A tingling in her nipples and little flutters in her vulva made Claire pause to question her feelings. "Written instructions, that is all they are," she scolded herself. "Nothing remotely sexual about them at all."
Deny it as she might the excitement she felt was building within her, dippy Amey had for once been right.
Claire found herself squeezing her thighs together, squashing her enflamed labia around her hardening clitoris and to massage it comfortingly.
On the appointed day she was to dress in the prescribed manner, make her way to a point outside of town where she would be collected. A sketched map was attached and a typed list of points added as where exactly to stand and which direction even that she should look in.
A sip at her coffee and a delighted shiver couldn't stem Claire's rising feelings of thrilling anticipation. She and Arabella had always got on well at school, the others saw her differently but Claire harboured a liking for the woman. Her hand rested now over her pussy, her fingers gripping lightly in a steady rhythm to try to feed the nagging ache that simply wouldn't leave her.
She wouldn't, Claire decided, say anything to the others. Okay she had agreed to share the information on the instructions once they arrived but now, now it all seemed so very different. She sighed aloud, shifting her thighs apart to allow her hand access to her pulsing clitoris. Claire looked apprehensively at the kitchen window and tried to make her rubbing movements less conspicuous.
As the wonderful sensations increased, Claire slid forward on her seat, stretching her legs out beneath the table. Her three fingers now rubbing steadily to circle and to press on her hard bud. Faster and harder she stroked herself, eyes closed and head back she moaned her pleasure to the silent kitchen.
She gave several little whimpers as her body shivered in light convulsions of pre-orgasm. Her legs locked straight, her back arched and she cried-out as she came.
For several minutes she sat as she had finished, bathing in the warm and blissful state of post-orgasm. Claire was mewing softly, her hand still rubbing slightly at her sex to savour every last ripple of sensation from it. Her eyes opened, she flushed and sat upright in the chair, embarrassed at inability to resist her urges. She pulled her robe tightly across her body and ran upstairs to the shower.
The huge marbled bathroom was larger than most normal lounges. Pale grey tiles lined the walls with long mirrors fixed horizontally to give ample opportunity for one to admire themselves fully. The large sunken bath, more like a small swimming pool had steps at one end that descended down into the foamy suds that covered the water. It was on these steps that Arabella stood naked, her body glistening with droplets of water and streaks of creamy suds.
"Work the lather in well, Vincent," she purred in delight.
The naked servant stood close to her, his cock erect and twitching as he ran both hands lovingly over his mistresses' body to soap her completely. His thick fingers roamed freely, rubbing across her breasts to excite her hard nipples, sliding down over the curve of her firm buttocks to slip between her legs.
"Unnnh!" Arabella groaned in delight as contact was made on her labia.
The fingers probed and searched as she shifted her feet apart to accommodate them. Her hand slipped around her side to grip and to hold his throbbing cock, her head rested back on his broad shoulder. One hand now fingered her pussy, the other covered one breasts and pulled her back onto him as he squeezed and kneaded it.
"Fuck me," Arabella breathed urgently. "Fuck me now."
He pulled her onto him, manoeuvring his cock up under her buttocks and between her legs. The great head of his cock pushed into her inner lips and then on up inside her moist interior. His finger and thumb pinched and rolled her nipple, the other hand circled her waist to rub slowly at her clitoris. Vincent began a slow thrusting up into his mistress, sliding his cock almost out of her pussy before ramming hard back up inside her.
Arabella moaned her pleasure, her internal muscles gripping him momentarily as each inward stroke peaked. Her whole soft inside closing around his great length to feed back total pulsing sensations from his firm rod.
Only moments he lasted before she felt the warm wash of his sperm deep up inside her. She came at that moment, air forcing from her lungs as she savoured the feel of his thick warm cock up inside her.
"Good, Vincent, very good indeed," she praised breathlessly.
"Thank you Madam," came the dutiful reply.
"Now, wash yourself and sit of the side of the bath, I have yet to eat," she said firmly and then softened her tone to a sensual drawl. "And you know just how hungry I can get."
Husband Robert looked up from his newspaper in surprise.
"The whole weekend?" he questioned with a hint of suspicion in his voice.
Claire sat in the armchair opposite flicking idly through a magazine.
"Arabella, you must remember my telling you of her. Old school friend, she's holding a class reunion."
Robert grunted and resumed reading his paper.
"Fine by me," he said in disinterest. "I'll just go to the squash club and probably eat at mother's house to save me cooking."
Claire put the magazine aside, got up and moved to Robert's side, she sat on the arm of the chair and slid her arm around his shoulders.
"If I'm to be away for a few days," she murmured softly and tickled at his ear lobe. "Do you think that we might…"
Robert grunted again and shook his head.
"Not in the mood."
Claire suppressed her initial reaction and maintained the coaxing voice.
"But it has been some months now Robert since you…since you…"
He threw the newspaper aside angrily and jumped to his feet.
"Since I can't get an erection!" he shouted.
Claire remained calm.
"I was going to say since you last made love to me."
"You know damned that I can't!"
"We could try," she soothed. "There are lots of things we could do without actually…you know."
He paused thoughtfully for a moment then shook his head.
"No," he muttered. "No, I can't – I just can't."
Robert walked away through to the kitchen.
Claire sat as she was, a warm sensation moving to spread from her pussy out across her upper thighs. Her nipples began that familiar tingling and the excitement stirred once again within her. Her thoughts now were not on her husband but on her friend, her old school friend – Arabella.