An Itch You Just Cant Scratch

The doorbell rang and Lady Katherine was attracted to it like a moth to a flame. Her esteemed guests had arrived at the mansion and she just had to greet them herself. It was the proper thing to do! She made servers and cleaners swerve around her as she strode across the grand hall. With her head high, she oozed authority. She aggressively hip-bumped the maid out of the way who was en route to open the door. The overworked woman would've been dismissed on the spot had the mistress caught her eye roll. Little did she know, she would indirectly get her revenge thanks to another member of the abused staff...

After tucking a lock of curly red hair behind her ear, Katherine opened the door with a wide, crimson-painted smile. The party being held at the snobbish aristocrat's home, hosted by the one and only Katherine herself - was the event of the year. She greeted Lords and Ladies, even minor nobility! Everyone who was anyone attended. But only those of class were invited. The only peasantry she allowed in her marvellous home were the servants. She prided herself on keeping only the best company.

The night started off well. She busied herself with entertaining. But soon into the festivities, Katherine started to experience an itch she just couldn't scratch. She made the rubbing of her chest area as subtle as possible during conversations. But the itching was in her never regions also - an area hidden under petticoats and skirts she could not get away with relieving.

This is weird... Katherine thought, distracted from delivering her obligatory pleasantries.

"My lady?" a local lord asked with a concerned tone, pulling her back to the conversation she should be immensely involved in.

"I'm so sorry, would you excuse me?"

She started walking away from the man before he responded - the itching growing more and more insufferable to the woman who tolerated little. It wasn't something she could ignore any longer. The feeling was located solely in her underwear - what the hell were they made of? Stinging nettles?! I bet those blasted maids bought dirt cheap underwear and pocketed the rest of the cash! She would have to deal with those thieves later. If she could get upstairs she could quickly change - she wouldn't be gone long enough to be missed. Yes, I'll do - Katherine bumped into a gentleman on her rush to the majestic stairwell. He swept her up in a discussion of business, moving her away from her escape.

She had no choice but to engage - biting her lip to hold in a moan of distress. It was becoming an irritation that couldn't be boiled down to just the quality of the material. Something else was going on. As discreetly as she could, Katherine backed up, 'mhm-ing' during the conversation more than appropriate. Groping the air behind her, the woman finally found the table corner she was looking for in which to rub her behind against. The relief was instant but minimal. The man gave up his jabbering to instead give her a strange look. An image-conscious Katherine came to an immediate halt.

Dammit! A-a drink... maybe that'll h-help... Rudely, Katherine demanded a server to stop and snatched a drink from his tray. The motion caused it to wobble and in turn, the woman cursed at him - threatening his job if he wasn't more careful. She gulped down the entire glass of wine, allowing the man to scurry away. She prayed the alcohol would dull the ever-growing itchiness. Yet with the liquid drained there was nothing left to hold her attention. The empty glass shook in her hand. She was gripping it so hard that her knuckles turned white. If the woman had worked a day in her life a developed stronger grasp would've caused it to shatter.

The man was speaking to her but she couldn't process a word. She politely dismissed herself and rushed - in a very unladylike shuffle - away from the concerned gentleman to make a beeline to the downstairs bathroom. She let out a cry of despair to find it occupied.

The itching was reaching an unbearable level. The sensation clouded her mind like a swarm of mosquitos - her body feeling as if it had been bitten by hundreds of them. She squirmed from the discomfort - shifting her abundant weight from foot to foot. She rubbed at her chest through her gown but it wasn't enough. I can't wait - I can't, I can't, I can't!

Her ass was burning. Her chest was on fire. She pawed at it over the top of her dress with even more vigour. It felt as if candles were being held to her large breasts, the flames mercilessly licking her perky nipples. It couldn't be helped any longer. She yanked the front of her dress down in order to pinch and pull and scratch. She made them red and raw but had enough self-control not to cause any real harm or damage. The relief it caused to finally get at them made her pant.

That self-control didn't apply to maintaining her grace or self-regard. More and more eyes turned to the woman who was hitching up her skirts to claw at her arse. When she finally noticed the stares, her face grew as red as her glowing plump rear. No... no no no! Her reputation! Her social standing was jeopardised! She paused her scratching to survey the room. Every guest and member of staff had looked up to watch her humiliate herself. Muttering filled the room. With every painfully slow second that passed, Katherine's embarrassment grew more intense than the itching. Slowly she let her skirts drop and pulled up her blouse. Her hands were shaking.

Being the centre of attention was usually the ego boost Katherine thrived on. But that night she stood as a shameful woman who had just lost all dignity and respect in front of a handful of the most important people in town. She was ruined.