The Itching Hour

The first thing Evellyn notices is the weight of her own servant's nude form pressed against her own, breasts against breasts, pussies already flushed with warmth, their bald and subtly tingling lips locked into a startlingly intimate kiss. Evellyn and her humble servant girl slowly take in the full magnitude of the humiliatingly compromising positiom they'd been placed in. The serving girl is bewildered, utterly unprepared for that bastard thief's disgusting predilections Evellyn, sadly, is by now all too accustomed to them. Despite her relative familiarity with him, however, she thinks she's beginning to see now that she's severely underestimated his limits. This, she thought, through a stifling blaze of indignation and embarassment, was undeniably a new low for him and her both.

Neither Evellyn nor her servant can speak, crudely gagged as they are by each other's undergarments. Worse, they're bound together at the wrists and ankles, folded up in a ball of bared skin, and wrapped tightly together beneath the heavy blankets that enshroud them. There seems to be no way out, and certainly no means of escape; the mere fact of mistress and servant being **** to lie huddled naked like this is bad enough...and then the powder begins to take effect. The servant girl is already stammering out a succession of muffled apologies and pleas for forgiveness when it comes upon them, sharp and keen like the prick of a blade against their exposed flesh. It starts somewhere around their breasts, the powder having worked its way into the curves and crannies of the combined mound of softly jiggling tits they've been made to make of their respective chests. Evellyn looks into her servant's eyes and saw a palpable fear in them—she can feel it too, then. The girl whimpers, then moaned, before screeching out what sounded like another apology.

To Evellyn's chagrin, the serving girl starts to rub her fat, heavy breasts up against Evelleyn's, cleatly unable to resist the urge to scratch any longer. Evelleyn shakes her head and goes to reprimand her, but the words come out as an unintelligible mumble, and soon she finds herself huddering at the sensation of their poor chafing, itchy tits rubbing endlessly over and against one another. Gods, Evellyn thinks, trying to ignore the maddening twin sensations of the itching powder and the soft sensitive skin of her areolas being manipulated by those of her servant. The dishonour of it, the...the shame she cringes and screws her eyes shut tight. The itching, gods the itching! Wobbling, pliable flesh jiggles and folds, the terrible itching only seeming to intensify the more their breasts rub and rub and RUB

At the zenith of the discomfort, just when Evellyn is beginning to mentally process this shameful ordeal in which she's found herself, the powder begins taking effect lower down. She feels the barest hint of a twinge down there, quivering involuntarily at the skin-crawling sensation already gathering around her crotch. Instinctively, Evellyn tries futilely to clench her thighs closer together as waves of discomfort wash over her pussy and the itching takes hold. "Mmmmmff! The servant girl groans through her gag, bucking and grinding her hips—the itching clearly having taken effect on her end as well. The Noble Lady Evelleyn can't help but shudder, burning with shame as she lies there, cocooned and bound, while beneath the blankets all hell breaks loose. The powder causes the maddening sensation to intensify with each passing second. Evellyn looks around, trying to ignore the warmth of her Servant's body beneath her, and the throbbing at her crotch. There must be a way out, she thinks, but her train of thought is interrupted by a sudden, crippling wave of ticklish sensitivity. She bites down a little harder on the gag you made of the Servant Girl's panties, hands clenching and unclenching wildly. In desperation she goes to grab onto something—anything—and swiftly manages to grip onto two handfuls of something expansive and pillowy. Evelleyn is momentarily confused, and it's only when the Servant Girl lets out a muffled, indignant cry that she realises she's gathered up two heaping helpings of the poor dear's big, round arse.