Becky Ball - The Rich Bitch

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.