This rimjob-beneath-the-table was more than just kinky NTR sex play.
It was part of a master plan Beatrice and I had cooked up to get me hired as a Crystalion family butler.
"My son is strict," Beatrice had told me some hours before when we were fooling around in her bedroom. "He does all employee interviews himself."
Beatrice was on all fours, crawling over the bedroom’s ornate floor rug.
Woven into the rug’s surface with gold thread was a roaring lion: symbol of House Crystalion.
I sat on Beatrice’s back and rode her like an English jockey, leaning over every few laps to slap her ass or give her tits a pinch and squeeze.
Beatrice was breathing hard from carrying me around the room. Sweat beaded her slender neck.
Her ass was pink from repeated spankings. Grool oozed from her pussy, drawing creamy trails on the lion’s face.
I raised my hand and spanked her left ass cheek so hard that the ripple cascaded to her right ass cheek and rebounded back like a wave from a lakeshore.
"Nngh!!" Beatrice moaned.
In public the Mistress of the House was stiff, cold, and unyielding. But her true personality—known only to a select few—was that of a submissive masochist.
The more I roughhoused and talked dirty to her, the hornier and more obedient she became.
"Your son may be strict," I said. "But you’re his mother. Convince him to hire me."
"I’ll try my best, Master ... But I’m afraid it might not be enough. He’s a strict man ... You’ll have to impress him ... mhmm ... during the interview ..."
I snorted.
"Beatrice, do I look like a servant to you? I’m the one who gives orders. Not the one that obeys them. I don’t know the next thing about being a butler."
"I’ll help you, Master." Beatrice crooned. She crawled several feet forward before continuing. "There’s a partition in the drawing room. I’ll hide behind it and send you signals during the interview."
"Booooring!"
I swung a leg over Beatrice’s back and got to my feet. Grabbing her hips, I spread my legs wide and squatted down. My erect cock slapped against the cleavage of her ass. Beatrice squealed, wiggling her cheeks.
"Please Master ... I ... want you ..."
I let her grovel and beg, teasing her ass with the tip of my cock.
Soon she was so worked up that grool flowed out of her onto the rug to stain the lion’s face.
Then, without warning, I thrust my hips forward and entered her from behind with an audible squelch.
Beatrice moaned. Her knees buckled. She slumped belly-first onto the floor.
"Yessss!"
I began to drill her from behind, balls slapping hard against her sweat-soaked ass.
She was hot and wet and entirely ready for me. With each thrust, oil paintings rattled on the walls. Vases shook, threatening to dump their contents onto the floor.
Outside the window, a gardener was trimming the topiary, oblivious to what I was doing to the mistress of the house.
Beatrice bit her wrist to stop her screams.
"I have a better idea," I said as I boned her. "Why don’t you hide under the table and signal me with your mouth instead?"
Beatrice shuddered, hitting her first orgasm of many to come. With each thrust, cream spurted out of her opening, staining the rug.
"B-but what if my son finds out?" she managed to say.
"That’s what makes it exciting," I said.
Beatrice shuddered, fingers and toes twisting at impossible angles. Orgasm number two.
"Oh ... Ah ... That’s why I love you Master ..."
And now—just as planned—Beatrice was hunched under the drawing-room table coaching me through my job interview with her hands, tongue, and mouth.
We’d decided the code beforehand: One tongue flick against my frenulum meant yes. Two flicks meant no.
Earl Crystalion sipped his tea and stared at me.
He had bags under his eyes from a long business tour outside of Windmoor. He wanted this to be over and done with.
"What is your name?"
"Elijah," I said. "Elijah Payes."
"Payes? I’ve not heard that name before. Is yours an established butler family?"
Under the table Beatrice removed her tongue from my asshole.
She licked upward, in one stroke, past my balls and along my shaft, until she reached my frenulum.
She followed with two quick flicks: hard and fast.
"Nghh!"
I jumped in my seat from the sudden stimulus. My teacup fell over, spilling brown liquid onto the marble table.
"Oops," I said, reaching for a towel. "Sorry about that."
"No matter," Earl Crystalion said, though he looked like it mattered a lot. "Answer the question. Is yours an established butler family?"
Beatrice flicked twice again.
Is she crazy? Why tell Earl Crystalion that I wasn’t from a butler family? Wouldn’t that destroy my chances of being hired?
Two flicks. Urgent.
Fine. If you insist ...
"No," I said. "I’m not from an established family."
Arkdam Crystalion raised an eyebrow. He poured more tea, sipped, and stared into my eyes.
"You must have experience as a butler, then. With a notable family. The Crystalion family has been around for centuries. We do not suffer amateurs."
Two flicks again.
"No. No work experience."
His eyebrow climbed higher. Any more and it would vanish into his hairline.
"No family name. No experience. Do you really believe yourself qualified?"
One flick.
"Yes."
Silence.
"May I ask why?"
No response came from Arkdam’s mother.
This wasn’t a yes-no question. Beatrice Crystalion passed the time by planting soft kisses along my thighs and seeing how much of her pinky finger she could fit up my ass. Her breath was hot against my balls.
I need to make up an answer.
"I’m here for the money."
"For the money." Earl Crystalion set down his teacup. His eyebrow descended from his hairline and joined his other to form a unibrow grimace. "I must have heard wrong. You’ve come, to one of Windmoor’s great families, in search of money?"
One suck.
It’s official. Beatrice is mad.
But what could I do? If I changed my tack now it’d be even more suspicious.
Despite what was going on under the table, I felt my balls shrink. I was probably fucked—and not in the good way.
There was only one thing to do ...
Bluff my way out.