Self Serve

Caroline brushed her long hair in the mirror, glancing at the outfit for her catering gig on the bed behind her. It had been nearly six months since she started working this job, and while it was definitely weird when she started, these days… well, she wasn't entirely sure if things had gotten more normal or more weird.

She'd been at a local club on Fetish Night one night, more in the mood to dance than to get picked up. Nevertheless, there she was at the bar, chatting with an older guy she'd never seen before and his smiling partner? wife? She couldn't remember at this point.

Waiting tables paid the bills, but not well, and she'd been complaining about the long hours, low pay, and lousy behavior on the part of both her boss and her patrons. Something about the way she'd said it made this stranger perk up and start asking her questions, but it wasn't until the woman with him pointed out her outfit that Caroline realized he, or possibly they, weren't trying to pick her up so much as they were interested in her choice of career.

Some of that same outfit lay on the bed behind Caroline: black stockings, long satin gloves, and a slim leather collar that passed for a choker when she wore it in public. The overbust corset she'd worn to the club was swapped out for a simple garter belt, and the stompy boots replaced with comfortable shoes that would get her from here to work. She'd deal with the rest of her uniform once she got there.

"Work." "Uniform." Words that had changed dramatically after that night at the club. The pitch had been unbelievable at first: a catering gig for kinky sex parties, attended by the well-to-do members of some corner of local society. The fetish outfit they wanted her to wear was extremely specific and clearly designed to be visually appealing to the audience, but the pay was excellent, and she'd been assured that the guests knew better than to cross any lines with the waitstaff. The rest of the job requirements weren't much different than what she was used to: mingle with the crowd, be pleasant but don't cause a distraction, fill drink orders for the bar. But do it while wearing less than nothing and serving hors d'œuvres to guests who were themselves in various states of undress.

Mr. Reed was certainly an attractive gentleman, even if he and his guests tended to be a bit older than Caroline usually went for. He obviously had money, because Caroline was far from the only person on staff and she knew they didn't work cheap. But his parties were full of the kinds of kinky play that you couldn't get up to in public no matter how permissive the club's rules were. For Caroline, just having the opportunity to witness the debauchery was one of the perks of the job.

The week before she'd watched a tiny woman get tied up in a full body harness and then fucked by three guys at once. Caroline had delivered a few drinks to that room and then stood there mesmerized, watching for a solid ten minutes while they went at it. It was one of her longest-running fantasies, one she reached for frequently during her private time, and there it was playing out right in front of her. In fact the only thing that stopped her from getting herself off while she watched was the chastity belt that all the servers wore while they were working. The belt was one way to enforce the "hands off the staff" rule, but it wasn't until Caroline had worked a few shifts that she realized that rule applied to the servers themselves as well.

Fortunately, no one seemed to mind when she got distracted like that. Or maybe it wasn't that fortunate. Caroline's hand drifted across her hip, dipping between her thighs as she leaned forward over the bathroom sink. What if one of the guests were to punish her for not doing her job well? She'd seen all sorts of wicked implements over the past few months, some more familiar than others. Would they beat her with a paddle? Or just go for the classic bare-handed spanking, letting her pink cheeks stand out as a mark of shame for the rest of the evening?

The guests weren't allowed, of course, but Caroline was certainly wet at the thought. She strummed at her clit with two fingers, fast and light, just the way she liked it. Maybe they'd tie her up first. Maybe they'd strap her to a cross and let the whole party have a turn. Or maybe… maybe they'd turn her into a party favor instead. Blindfolded, tied down to a bed, her head dangling over the side, an endless stream of hard cocks forced into her mouth. Her cunt clenched as she thought about the woman from last week, her screams muffled as she came hard on all three cocks at once. But then the memory of the chastity belt keeping her dripping cunt locked away came flooding back to her, and she reluctantly stopped herself short.

By far the strangest part of the job was the bonus structure Mr. Reed had put into place. Each server got a base rate for the evening, plus a performance bonus that was normally 15% but could go as high as twice that. The weird part, though, was the incentive: staff who managed not to have an orgasm between events got their bonuses doubled. Mr. Reed's partner had explained the whole thing to Caroline when they set up her payroll: he had a serious orgasm control kink, and just knowing that his staff were denying themselves orgasms was a thrill for him.

Caroline hadn't managed to collect the bonus yet. Breaking herself of a once-a-day habit had been a challenge, and last week wasn't even close. As soon as she got home from that event she jerked off twice thinking about that gang bang, then did it again the following morning with the help of a few toys from her personal collection. Nevertheless, any time she was able to exert the willpower to stop herself from getting off got her one step closer to a sizable check the following week, and so with a sigh she pulled her hand away from her aching clit.

She puttered around the bathroom sink for a minute, nervously rearranging a few things to try to take her mind off how aroused she was. Finally, she returned to the bedroom and gathered her outfit in a bag, then put on some comfortable clothes and headed out to the car.

The Reeds' mansion – there really wasn't any other word for it – sat in the low hills on the edge of the city. It wasn't your typical sprawling estate with perfectly manicured lawns and a huge Victorian main house, though. From the front it had the look of a modern home from the school of "clean design", with an all-glass front and cantilevered patio overlooking the city. Caroline was pretty sure there was one of those "infinity pools" somewhere, but she'd never had the chance to explore the property.

She drove past the front driveway and around to a gate that led to the side of the property, showing her employee's badge to the guard stationed there. Two full floors down from the main building, there was a second entrance built into the side of the hill that could easily be mistaken for a fancy function hall; all it was missing was an actual red carpet. She waved at the valet and pulled her car into a small parking lot in the back near the servant's entrance.

Caroline's pussy pulsed as she got out of the car; it was practically Pavlovian at this point. Part of it was the thrill of not knowing what debauchery she was going to witness on any given night. The outfit, of course, was another part. She already knew she liked to dress up and show off when she went to the club, but the "look but don't touch" aspect of wearing the server's uniform and being put on display had turned out to be shockingly powerful for her. The orgasm denial part, though… Caroline had learned quite a bit about herself over the first few months of working here, but the jury was still out on that one. Maybe she'd have a better sense once she earned her first super-sized bonus check.

The staff dressing room was right inside the door, and Caroline walked straight to the tablet computer at the desk to check herself in for the night. They called this the "locker room", but it resembled the backstage dressing area of a theater far more than it did the changing room at her local gym. In the center of the room were a few low padded benches and a coffee table with an on-demand coffee maker and an electric kettle for making tea. Around the outside were a series of small cubicles for dressing, each of which had a full-height locker along with a lit-up dressing mirror, bench, and stool.

The check-in computer directed Caroline to bench number four. She nervously exchanged hellos with a couple of servers sitting at the coffee table as she passed; even after working here for a while, she was unsure of how well she fit in among the other servers. They all seemed relatively at ease, chatting away despite wearing the full uniform, all the way down to their black-lined chastity belts with a chrome strap running between their legs.

Caroline sat at her bench and glanced over at the tablet, cheerfully displaying a "Welcome back #29" message on the lock screen. Getting undressed in front of the other servers wasn't that much different than going to gym and had been easy enough to get used to. Still, she felt the usual butterflies in her stomach as she shrugged off her hoodie and t-shirt, folding them neatly on the bench in front of her, then stood to take off her jeans. Caroline was taller than most of the other servers, and while that often seemed to intimidate people, no one here had commented on it since she'd been working here.

Having not bothered to put underwear on just for the drive, Caroline retrieved her garter belt from her bag and fastened it around her waist. It was a plain black model without any real decoration, which seemed to be what most of the servers had decided on; after all, it wasn't their job to draw attention to themselves. The sheer black stockings were next, and she shivered as she rolled them up her legs and fastened the clips of her garter belt. Finally, she picked up her collar and slipped it around her neck, closing it in the back and fishing a tiny luggage lock through the hasp. The padlock wasn't specifically part of the uniform, but she'd gotten a positive note about it after the first time she'd worn it, so it had become a recurring part of her outfit.

The servers weren't allowed to put on the chastity belts themselves – there was some nonsense about safety and security, but she was pretty sure it was just the Reeds' proclivities – and Caroline started to sweat a little as she thought about the next stage of preparation for tonight's event. Inside the locker there was a strappy leather suspension harness that went on over everything else along with an opaque hood. Caroline struggled into the harness, even though it had been sized specifically to fit her, and got the straps pulled tight. She picked up the hood, looked at herself in the mirror to gather her courage, and thumbed the touchpad on her locker to lock everything up.

The door to the dressing room annex had a very large button alongside it, but she wasn't supposed to hit it until after she'd put the hood on, blindfolding herself. It was supposed to preserve the anonymity of whoever was dressing her inside the room, and sure enough despite her best efforts Caroline had been unable to tell if it was even the same person every week or not. Given how much the impersonal nature of what was about to happen turned her on, Caroline had to admit it was also possible that she was too horny to really pay enough attention to tell, and that at the end of the day it didn't really matter.

That was a preview of Self Serve. To read the rest purchase the book.

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