2 comments/ 64377 views/ 5 favorites Rich Bitch Downfall Ch. 01 By: annecinva The story that you are about to read happened to me about a year ago. Since then, my life has taken an adventurous turn opening new doors and living out a few dark fantasies that I only dream of. For various reasons, the location, names, and some of the events have been altered to provide some anonymity. About a year ago, I was a country club wife enjoying life, the finer aspects the world has to offer, and harboring some secret fantasies. Our regular golf foursome was coming off the course and we were heading to the women's lounge at the club for refreshments and to get out of the sun. I was about to park the golf cart in my usual space near the clubhouse when out of the left corner of my eye another cart came careening down the path. I jumped wit both feet on the brakes nearly tossing my partner, Dee, out of the cart. "Whoa! What the heck are those two doing?" exclaimed Dee as I tried to refocus on the two swaying golf bags in the cart that just missed our front end. As we stopped and regained our breath, two women hopped out of the cart that narrowly missed our front end laughing and joking. Both were definitely younger than Dee and me. Dee and I are in our mid fifties and have been members of Westview Country Club for ages. The two younger women were totally oblivious to us and handed their golfing gloves to the cart attendants. Dee was furious and shouted to the younger two, "A little courtesy goes a long way on and off the course!" The brunette turned and stopped looking in our direction. "So sorry sweetie but the margaritas are calling!" The brunette's partner chimed in, "This way ladies! From what I saw of your foursome, you should consider another hobby!" The both nearly doubled over laughing as they headed to the women's lounge in the clubhouse. Dee and I both sat in the cart as our other two partners came walking up to us. "You two got beat again in one afternoon!" Megan joked as I was about to find another spot to park the cart. I was fuming about the last remark and those from the younger blond and brunette that took our cart space. Dee and I parked the cart a few spaces further down and made our way to the woman's lounge. Megan and Lisa were already at a table and ordered for all us. "The usual, right?" Lisa asked as Dee and I joined them at the table. We sat down and I looked across the room and spied my golf cart nemesis. They were across the way the two of them. I turned my back to them. Out of sight, out of mind. We chatted briefly on the cart incident then moved onto more interesting chatter like who was buying what and who was headed where on vacation. Before we moved the discussion along, Megan mentioned that the brunette was a recent new member. "She recently joined a few months back with her husband. Tom saw the membership and recommended their approval," Megan explained about the new members but offered little more. She was Patty Johnson. Her sidekick was Susan Albright, a member for about five years and somewhat of a stuck up snob. Just like the rest of us. Little did I know that Patty would become more of a part of my life than I ever could want or need. I was seething and the others at the table could feel my anger. I was going to reply that Megan's husband Tom should check into applying members better but bit my tongue as the waiter brought over our drinks. We were finishing our drinks and I was about to stand up when I pushed my chair back and bumped into something or someone. The warm comfy feeling I had a few moments quickly changed as a I felt a cold liquid spill down my back and large a female voice soon followed. "Honey, you can't win for losin' with me!" It was the brunette bitch that stole my golf cart spot and insulted me afterwards. I recognized the voice and spun quickly as the brunette nearly doubled over in side splitting laughter. My white golf shorts and pink green top were soaked down the back with her latest round of margaritas. Susan Alrbright burst out laughing and pointing at my wet backside. "Oh my, I did not know that middle-aged women could feel comfortable wearing a thong!" I felt humiliated and was about to lunge for Ms. Albright's neck but Megan quickly stepped between us physically and verbally. "Ok, accidents happen. Let's go Anne and let it go," Megan said as she grabbed my arm and began to lead me away from the two bitches. As we neared the exit to the woman's locker room, I heard Patty exclaim, "Good Lord, look at that ass jiggle!" Megan pushed me out of the door and into the locker room. "The last thing you need is to get into a fight with this woman and get tossed from the club. Remember last New Year's Eve? You and me? Drunk? In your car? Touching each other and you hit the front gate of the club? The club board was pretty upset that no one confessed to the incident and you lied to hubby about the dent. Tom and a few others members speculate that it was you. Let's not give them a reason to go back and ask about that mess" I remembered the time and how much fun we were having like two college coeds on spring break. Touching, kissing, it was all too wild for two fifty-something women. And why jeopardize the membership in the club that we have belonged to forever. We got to my locker and Megan began to help me off with the wet, alcohol soaked garments. I reeked of margaritas and the last thing I needed was to drive home smelling like a Mexican bar and with a few drinks in me. Megan helped me remove my top licking my back as it slid over my shoulders and head. "Mmm, the only thing missing is the lime!" She cackled and it caused me to erupt into laughter thinking about last New Year's Eve. Megan unclasped my bra and I turned facing her. Our lips met and we began to pick up where we left off last winter. A warm feeling pulsated throughout my body and it was more than the tequila! I tried to resist but Megan pulled me towards her. I tasted her sweet lips, her tongue exploring my open mouth, our tongues meeting one another. Oh what the heck I thought as long as no one is about and no one should be since so few female members used the change rooms other than for the bathroom. Megan's hands moved my wet golf shorts and she cupped my bum massaging both cheeks and grinding into me. She pushed my wet shorts down, tugging them off my skin and they puddle at my ankles. My thong was pulled aside as her fingers searched for my cleft lips. Megan found the spot she wanted to work and whispered in my ear, "Let's move to the shower." I felt my inhibitions melt as I sat down on the chair and watched her strip out of her clothes and I removed my shoes and socks. We walked to the showers holding hands and found an empty stall at end and we both entered. That familiar warm feeling returned to my mind and body as the warm water cascaded over me and Megan's fingers and tongue explored me. I leaned back and let the warm water spray over my face and then I moved between Megan's legs. Rich Bitch Downfall Ch. 02 I sat down at the computer and my mind was a bit fuzzy and cloudy as the day was outside. Dark clouds were outside of my home office window and it looked as though wet weather was on the way. As the computer fired up, I looked outside again as a rumble of thunder shook the house and the rain began to fall. I moved to the window hearing the rain slap against the cut-stone patio like bacon frying in a pan. Little did I know that the ominous clouds on the horizon and the frying bacon would be appropriate analogies of what I was about to see in my e-mail. As my e-mail account opened I noticed a few e-mails from friends, my daughter, and a few advertisements. It was a few days since I was last in my e-mail and, not being completely tech savvy, at times, tried to avoid the computer. I scrolled down a bit and saw an e-mail from looked like Westview Country Club but the address did not appear proper. I heard so much about viruses and paid the price last year by opening an innocent e-mail only to have a boatload of unwanted garbage loaded on my pc, explicit adult sites that I had to explain to my husband about my computer illiteracy and face his wrath of being careful about what I opened on e-mail. I thought about it for a second but clicked on the wcc-admin e-mail and a message with a few attachments were in the e-mail. The message read, "Hi Anne, I thought you should see these. I would like to discard these but we need to be sure how we want dispose of them or should we post them for the club members to look at? Please let me know before Tuesday at noon." It was unsigned and there was no phone number. Thunder rumbled and the sky illuminated with a streak of lighting foreboding more than just a bad storm. Odd, but I never had received an e-mail from the country club before. And what needs to be posted for members to see? I was a bit perplexed thinking maybe it was some rummage items for those less fortunate? I have provided volunteer services for the poor and homeless in the past and maybe it had something to do with our club being more socially responsible. But who could be poor if they belonged to Westview? I clicked on the first attachment. I figured out how to look at attachments a few weeks before when I received a few pictures of my first grandchild. I loved the computer and the wonders of technology. The attachment box appeared and I clicked on open. It took a few moments and I walked back to the kitchen to get another cup of coffee. I was walking back into the office and looked out the window at the dark sky and watched the rain beat on the bay windows of the home office. I glanced at the screen expecting to see some old golf carts, clothing or items for a rummage sale. To my shock and horror I saw what I believed to be me leaning back in a chair by the lockers in the far corner of the women's locker room. My legs were spread and another woman was between my legs. My face was clearly visible. My closed eyes, my hands in her hair as her face was buried in my pussy. I was in shock. I clicked back to the e-mail and looked at the other attachments. They were numbered one to five. Four of the five had a .jpg extension with the fifth attachment having an .mpg extension. I was not sure what .mpg meant so I clicked on that attachment. I grasped my coffee cup searching for some assurance that it was nothing. But how? This happened last Friday? No one was about the club house or the women's locker room. How I asked myself over and over. The open attachment box appeared and I clicked on 'open'. The computer grinded away and finally a small movie screen appeared. It was the locker room and sound of running water and moaning could be heard in the background. The quality of the video and audio were poor but I could hear some moaning in the background. The scene abruptly changed to coincide with the first attachment. Even though the scene was from a distance, I could see two people, two women, engaged in oral sex. One woman, me, was sitting on a chair and an unknown woman, Megan, was between my legs licking away at me. The distance between the camera and the women evaporated as the image became more in focus and closer. My face could be clearly seen, biting my lip, my head thrown back in ecstasy as I was cumming. I sat in the leather chair staring at the computer screen. Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lighting illuminated the room with every crack. The rain continued to pour onto the cut\ stones outside the slightly opened window. The storm increased in its intensity. So did the e-mail. The dark clouds and lighting foretold of some ominous events on the horizon. The rain hitting the cut stone on the patio sounded like bacon frying in a pan. The bacon frying on my computer was going to be my ass if Rick ever found out about this escapade or last New Years crash. Ok, be rational I said to myself. Who would have done such a voyeuristic thing? Why anonymous? Oh my God! Today was Tuesday and noon was about two hours away! Would they be posted in a little more than two hours? I was puzzled as to how to respond. There was no name, no phone and I dare not call Shirley, the club business manager, and ask about the e-mail when I did not know if she sent it or had anything to do with this! Ugh! Being the 55, post-menopausal, bottle-blond, it finally dawned on me that I could hit reply button and see what happened. I went back to the e-mail and opened the other three attachments. The second attachment showed me sitting on the chair spread and rubbing my breasts. Megan's leg was off to the right but there were no names or faces on the leg. The third attachment showed me fingering another woman's pussy but only my full body and face was visible. The fourth attachment showed two women walking out of the shower. My face and complete body was clearly visible. Megan once again was an anonymous figure in the photos. All in all, it appeared that someone made sure that I was clearly visible and utterly exposed! I went to the kitchen and grabbed another coffee and added a double of Bailey's to the coffee. My hands shook as I tried to figure out what to do. Call Megan? I have not seen or heard from Megan since Sunday and she mentioned nothing to me about an e-mail. I checked the date of the e-mail and it was dated last Friday. I returned to the office and looked at the pictures again and noticed the clock on the computer screen said 11:15 AM. I needed to do something or those pictures would be posted at the club. My answer for a course of action was presented to me when computer chimed and it said I had a new e-mail. I closed the e-mail and saw it was from wcc-admin. The e-mail subject was Hi, Hope You Are... I clicked on the e-mail and message continued from the subject line. "...feeling the pain of the pleasure you received in the woman's locker room last Thursday. You are very photogenic and your video will do well promoting my website of rich bitches of the country club set. At 12:01 this afternoon, the video will be posted on rich-bitches-exposed.com and e-mails will be sent to the Westview membership offering them a free trial membership. I expect a few will recoil in horror and worry if they were also video'ed. A few more will want to join and a few more possibly may want to hire you for parties!" The e-mail continued. "I trust that you have seen Friday's e-mail and the pictures and the edited video. Yes, there is much more to the video." I sat back in the chair deflated but continued to read the e-mail my hands shaking as I scrolled further down the message. "If you want to avoid public exposure, the humiliation, and expulsion from the club, it is in your best interest to reply to this e-mail immediately. If you chose not to respond, watch your e-mail at 12:01 PM. Remember, Rick does so enjoy the club environment and it would be a pity if he also lost his club privileges." It was unsigned. I sat in the chair with the deafening silence of house and the storm around me. My bacon was definitely going to be fried. I drained the last of my second Bailey's coffee. The Irish cream whiskey giving me some courage and I convinced myself that nothing would come of anything at 12:01 PM. The ping of the computer indicated that I had a new e-mail. It was 12:02 PM. I checked my e-mail and sure enough it was from wcc-admin. I scrambled for the mouse and clicked on the open mail button. The darn thing could not open fast enough for me. Finally it opened and I noticed the message subject was "Last Chance". I clicked on the attachment and saw a picture of me sitting spread wide in the chair in the locker room with my hand buried deep in my pussy. My face was clearly visible and the picture was cropped removing Megan from the picture. She was standing a few inches from me. Tears ran down my face. Every nerve ending was sending a signal to my brain to do something. But what? As in a fog or trance, I clicked on reply. My hand moved the mouse, the arrow found the box labeled reply, and computer screen changed to an e-mail from annec to wcc-admin. My fingers moved across the keyboard. My mind was shut down. I read the words my fingers typed. "Ok, you made your point. Very funny. Now, what do you want and please stop harassing me!" I left it unsigned. I then hit reply. The screen returned to my inbox. I got up and made another Bailey's and returned to computer. A reply was waiting for me. I felt the blood drain from my face and hands. My body shook violently as I tried to grab the mouse. I clicked on the e-mail and began to read its contents. "A wise course of action Anne." I hated how this anonymous person used my first name. I continued reading the e-mail. "I have not even started with you and I did find your exploits in the locker room to be more than funny! I so enjoyed your oral capabilities and what you can do with your tongue! " "What do I want? Well, that question will be answered this evening. Meet me at the Starbucks on King. Order a latte and sit at a table facing the street. After ten minutes, proceed to the ladies room and enter. Do not lock the door." The last paragraph concluded with another slap to my face and dignity. The e-mail closed with, "Better make the latte non fat. I do believe you are very shapely for a woman of your age but a moment on the lips, forever on the hips! And the last thing a girl needs is more cellulite! See you tonight at 8." This e-mail was signed as "Mistress". Mistress? Mistress who? I looked at the clock and it was a little past one. I sat there shaking but this time I drank the Bailey's straight from the bottle. What to do for the next seven hours. To be continued... Rich Bitch Downfall Ch. 03 Ch. 3: The Degredation I spent most of the day at home watching the storm and drinking Bailey's. Rick was working on a major project and would not be home until late then out of town for the next week on business. I thought of calling Megan and did around 4. She was very upbeat and bubbly. She sensed my blue personality and told me the storm will pass then we could go golfing again. She giggle like a schoolgirl when she mentioned how much she enjoyed the coed antics in the locker room. The bile in the back of my throat caused me to tell Megan that I was feeling a bit under the weather and needed to go. She wished me well and said she will call tomorrow for lunch. Rick came and went in the evening mentioning he would grab something at the country club for dinner. Ugh, the club, I thought. Please don't mention that name to me again. It was seven so I primped myself for my eight o'clock meeting. I pulled on a light green top and a pair of khaki slacks, grabbed my purse and keys. I found a park in a parking garage not far from the shop and walked the 100 yards or so to the coffee shop. It was a few minutes before eight and I entered the establishment. As instructed in the e-mail, I ordered a non-fat latte and sat down at a table facing the street. There were a number of people milling about outside and in. I did not recognize one person on the street or in the store. At ten minutes past eight I got up and made my way to the ladies room in the back. It was locked. A voice responded to my twisting of the door handle, "Be right out in a sec, hold on." I thought I may have recognized the voice but when the door opened, it was the clerk that made my latte. I thought to myself, hope she washed her hands. I entered the room, closed the door but left it unlocked and waited. It seemed like forever but finally there was a slight knock on the door. My hands and body were trembling and a small squeaky reply came from my mouth, "Yes?" The handle twisted and the door opened slightly. A hand came in and turned off the light and a figure entered. I backed up slightly pressing my body against the wall. I stood frozen in the dark not knowing to scream, fall to the floor, or do anything. I heard some commotion near the door and light switch. Finally the lights cam back on. I blinked a few times and tried to readjust my eyes. Before me stood the bitch from the club. Liz Whatshername! My mind scrambled for her name. I tried to think what to say or do but my mouth hung open in shock and she quickly took control. "Hello Anne. So nice to see you again and dressed this time too!" Liz began the conversation chuckling and appearing to be a woman in control. "We don't have much time in here so here is the drill. You will do as you are told and meet me down by the river in ten minutes. There is a small park just south of the new restaurant. Oh, you will also need to lose the bra, khaki's and your panties. Put them in here and put on this skirt," as she handed me a bag and the skirt. "And if I refuse?" I replied somewhat bewildered and yet defiant. Liz kicked an innocent looking picture album over to me. I bent down, picked up the book, and opened it. Inside there was a photo essay of me in various stages of undress, me and Megan in the shower, and in multi-orgasmic states. I flipped farther back and saw excerpts from the Club security camera from the front gate. The video stills clearly showed me, my car and license plate damaging Club property. "Don't worry about that Anne. I deleted the film from the Club Archives but I did keep an insurance copy," Liz said matter of factly. Lifting the clothing bag and pulling out the skirt I noticed the color and length. "Uh, Liz, there is no way this is skirt is going to fit," I explained. "I am six feet tall and this is for a person that is much shorter. People will see my bottom as I walk." "Good point," Liz hissed. "Then you don't need any bottoms!" Liz grabbed for the skirt but I pulled them back into my chest away from her. She was winning control over me and making me submissive to her. I stood there protecting something I did not want to wear and conceding my own clothing to her mentally before I actually turned them over to her physically. "Oh, I see Anne. No problem. Since you want to make it hard on yourself," Liz replied matter of factly, "the consequences will be up to you. Keep in mind the website can manage a high number of members and guests. I am sure the other members will enjoy seeing one of the more established women in very compromising positions." I stood there frozen like a deer in the headlights as the car quickly approached me. I could feel the proverbial front fender of the car about to hit me with her next comment. "Anne, your choice as earlier today. You will make your own decisions to set a course of events in to motion. I am walking out of the door in a second with the photo book and heading over to the park. What you wear is up to you. But understand that the choice you select will make your future painful or pleasurable. And if you decide not to show up at the park, that is also your choice," Liz said to me as she opened the door and it closed with a click. If I were on the roadway, I would have been road kill. Wham! I looked at the skirt, my slacks, and I thought of the website and the e-mail movie I saw earlier today. I dropped the bag and the short skirt on the floor and unbuttoned my khaki's and slid them off my long, tanned legs. My reflection in the mirror showed me a woman succumbing to a more powerful younger woman. I could not look at myself as I hooked my thumbs into the elastic of my panties and I pushed them down letting gravity do its job as they fell to the floor. I pulled on the skirt and turned around to see how much of my bottom was showing in the mirror. Just a hint of skin showed. Grabbing the bottom of shirt, I pulled it lower and adjusted the skirt. Now, even though the skirt was short, my bottom was covered. For the time being anyways I feared. I gathered my khaki's and panties, folded them, and placed them in the bag Liz provided. I opened the door and walked out of the coffee shop heading toward the park believing every eye on the street was staring at my long legs and my bare ass. I could feel the warm breeze on a part of my body that there should be no breeze. I shuddered and shivered even thought it was hot and muggy. A car honked on Main Street as I crossed the street in the crosswalk. A group of three young men hooted and yelled something about where do those long legs lead to. Pigs. They drove past as I gave them an icy stare and they continued their sophomoric commentary. I pressed on to the park to meet my tormentor. Liz was sitting on a bench smoking a cigarette looking out over the water. I walked up to her and she smirked. Another reason I would grow to hate her, a smoker! "Love the wardrobe selection!" Liz squealed, giddy as girl on her first date. She invited me to join her on the bench. "Come on Anne, please sit down." My submission was growing. I not only decided to wear her short skirt but also accepted a simple order and request to sit down. Liz began to talk to me. "Now listen up. I am going to walk over to the two trees over there," Liz chatting and pointing to two large silver maples away from water and closer to a parking lot. "When I get over, you are to spread your legs and face in the direction of where I am standing," Liz continued her instructions. "You will keep your legs open and spread for me until I wave my hand, got it?" I responded with a quick nod of my head. My mind and mouth could not coordinate a verbal response. Liz got up and moved toward the trees. When she reached the trees, she looked over at me and I stared back. Bambi was back in the headlights. "Hello?!?" Liz yelled at me. Slowly, reluctantly I spread my legs. I felt the warm muggy air on my labia. Was the air really muggy or was I perhaps a bit excited. No way! I thought to myself. Sensing my reluctance, Liz gave me an order, "Left leg up and on the bench, start rubbing your kitty for me with your right hand." My left leg seemed to have a mind of its own. It moved up and the sole of my left foot was flat on the bench and legs were open. My right hand seemed to stop half-way to my pussy. Liz, with hands on her hips, directed a one word challenge to me, "Well?" My mind thought of the pictures, the e-mails, and oh that video. My right hand moved to my pussy and began to rub slowly at first. I closed my eyes for a few seconds and when I opened them, Liz was no longer standing where she was. I stopped and removed my hand and looked for her. Liz came out from behind the tree with a palm video recorder in her hand. She was moving toward me. "Ok, as I walk towards you, I want you to take both hands and pull your labia apart. Show me the goods slut." Liz was driving the car again looking for the next deer to run over. I moved my bottom to the front of the bench and spread my legs. My left and right index fingers found the right point on my sensitive lips and pulled them open. I cold hear the whir of the lens coming in for a close up of my pussy. "Open them," Liz said calmly as though she had done this a thousand times. I did pulling the lips a bit more open. "Did you drink your non-fat latte?" Liz queried me as nonchalantly as though we were just two friends sitting in the park. I nodded my head affirmatively. "Oh goodie, now let the latte find it's natural path out of you and release it," Liz directed me. How did she know I needed to pee, I asked myself. I sat on the bench as my patient tormentor stood a few feet from my staring at my wide open legs and pussy. Finally, I let a stream go and Liz recorded the event. The recycled latte splashing on the dirt about a foot in front of me. "Very good slut," Liz complimented me on my urinating capabilities. A puddle stood between Liz and me. Liz continued our one-sided conversation. "In the next few days you will be contacted about your video. You will need to follow the instructions and do what is required of you. Do you understand slut?" I was no longer a woman with a name. I was now labeled and named 'slut'. I watched as Liz walked away, my legs still open and spread. I closed them as the first chapter in my submission came to a close.