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.