La Puttanesca

Content Note: Contains elements of incest and non-consensual sex.

*

We were having dinner at the new Italian restaurant La Puttanesca with my parents. Jason had proposed to me the day before, at the same restaurant, and we had invited my parents to join us to share the news and celebrate. It was a happy occasion, and Jason and I were using every excuse to kiss and hold hands.

We'd been dating a year, almost, and were very much in love. Jason was handsome, blond and blue-eyed, and had a well paid position in a reputable law firm. He was kind but ambitious, could make me laugh, and enjoyed the same series that I did. Best of all, he was a considerate lover and I had no complaints about his performance.

"Congratulations," my dad said, and we all sipped our wine.

"I'm so happy for you!" my mum gushed. "Have you set a date?"

I was distracted from answering by the arrival of the waiter. His timing wasn't the best, but more confusing was that he unzipped his black trousers and extracted his cock - inches from my face.

My instinctive horror at this invasion of my personal space as well as the wholly inappropriate exposure gave way abruptly to a sudden clarity, an understanding that it was perfectly normal for waiters to do this. Not only that, but it would be shamefully impolite to deny him the pleasure of my mouth. More shameful even than sucking a stranger's cock in public, in front of my fiancé and parents.

"Are you ready to order?" he asked as I wrapped my lips about his cock and sucked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jason glaring at me angrily, and I could feel the heat of embarrassment in my cheeks. "I didn't plan this," I wanted to say, but the cock swelling to rigidity in my mouth was the priority. For his sake, though, I was determined to get this done as quickly as possible.

"Ah, um," my father mumbled. "I'll have the steak."

"Medium or well done, sir?"

"Medium," he said firmly.

"Spaghetti carbonara," my mum said, "and puttanesca for the whore."

I scowled around the thick cock in my mouth. The waiter was very well endowed, both thicker and longer than my fiancé, and the smell of him was stirring a hunger in me - and not just for pasta.

"I'll go for the steak as well," Jason said. "Medium."

"Very good," the waiter said, collecting the menus. He pulled his cock from my mouth, wiped the soft head against my cheek, and tidied himself away. "Your panties, please," he said to me, and I shuffled them down and off my legs, glad that I had worn the sexy black lace thong that Jason liked.

"I'm not a whore," I hissed at my mother as soon as he was gone. "And thanks for defending me," I added with a scowl at Jason, and wiped my lips and cheek with the cloth napkin.

"You certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself," he said. "Maybe a little too much."

I glared at him, tempted to make a remark about his being jealous of the waiter's cock... but thought better of it. Instead I turned to my mum. "We're thinking next summer. We're visiting the church tomorrow to confirm details, if you'd like to come?"

Back on this safer subject, my mum calmed herself and was soon setting herself up as the wedding planner, while my dad winced visibly at the projected cost of the whole affair.

Even Jason relaxed and forgot his anger with me over what really hadn't been my fault. It wasn't like I had asked to give the waiter a blowjob in front of my fiancé and my parents.

Although I couldn't quite remember when it had become normal for waiters to expect such service. It had certainly never happened to me before.

None of us had ordered starters, but the waiter returned to our table with a tray, a single large plate on it, and standing vertically on the plate was a large, flesh-coloured, realistic dildo. With a suction-cup base. "For la signorina to sit on," he said, "while the main course is prepared."

With a sigh of annoyance to mask my fresh embarrassment at this, as well as perhaps a secret thrill that I absolutely did not want Jason to see, I stood and positioned the dildo on my chair. Beside me, the waiter had his cock out again, and was stroking it as he watched. As everyone watched.

Jason was sulking, refusing even to look at me, as I lowered myself carefully.

"Did you have to order that?" my mum asked.

"Now now, dear," my dad said. "She didn't order it. You ordered for her, remember?"

Despite being a little wet from earlier, the dildo was larger than any cock I'd ever had in me, and I needed to work it in slowly. It stretched me deliciously, though, as it filled me inch by inch, my hips lifting up then dropping down. By the time I succeeded in taking it all, and was able at last to sit and relax, or try to, I knew my cheeks were flushed with more than just shame. "Whore," my mother muttered.

"Your top and bra, please," the waiter said, and I frowned with irritation... but I complied as I knew I had to, and soon I was sitting there, naked from the waist up except for my silver necklace, my skirt bunched up about my hips as I squirmed restlessly about the silicone shaft that filled me so distractingly. There was no hiding my shameful arousal. My nipples were visibly swollen and my breathing was audible.

The waiter moaned, and I winced as his cum splashed suddenly against my neck and cheek, followed by stripe after stripe of that hot, thick cream across my breasts. I reached tentatively for my napkin, but the waiter stopped me. "Cum should be cleaned with the mouth only," he said, and pulled mine to his cock; I obliged him by licking and sucking his wilting cock clean.

"Your mother's right," Jason growled once the waiter was gone. "You are a whore."

"Don't talk to my daughter that way," my dad said. "She's just doing what she has to. It's not her fault he wants her to look like a whore."

"Daddy," I whined, but he did have a point. I was bare-breasted and covered in cum, and squirming on a thick dildo. If I had seen the waiter do this to some other unfortunate woman, I'd have been calling her a whore, more than likely.

I could feel the cum running down my breasts and dripping from my chin, and the temptation to clean it away had my hands itching. I doubted any of Jason or my parents would be willing to lick me clean, and it would be humiliating to ask. Jason and my mum talked about the wedding while ignoring me, while my dad seemed unable to look away from my breasts.

Thankfully, we didn't have to wait too long for dinner. The puttanesca was wonderful, the chilli giving it a welcome heat, and the action of eating combined with increasingly lively and relaxed conversation allowed me to disguise my attempts to excite myself with the dildo.

"A church wedding's one thing," Jason said, "but I don't think white suits her."

I glowered at him. I wasn't a whore, but with every time they called me one, it felt more true. "Fuck it," I said eventually. I lifted up in my seat and dropped down, the dildo's brutal thrust forcing a gasp from my lips.

"Definitely red," my mum said. "I doubt the church will take her anyway."

By the time the waiter came to clear away our dishes, I had found a way to brace myself that let me bounce up and down on that dildo, and did so with wanton lewdness, my breasts bouncing in time. Jason and my mum stared at me in disgust, while my dad's hand was in his crotch. I was beyond caring. I needed to come.

The waiter returned with the dessert menu. He handed these out, then said to me, "Bend over the table."

I did so, quickly and without question, mourning only the emptiness of my cunt as the dildo slipped free. But I sighed in ecstasy as the waiter's cock filled that emptiness. "Yes!" I cried out.

Jason stood, his expression cold. "You unfaithful slut," he said. He unzipped his trousers, and tugged out his hard cock. "I'm not going to marry you. If you're lucky, I'll keep you to whore out to my friends." His cock was inches from my face as he stroked it.

But I was too focused on the far superior cock driving urgently into my cunt. "Harder," I begged.

An oily finger wormed its way into my rear. "The whore's ass is still tight," my mum said. Someone was tugging on my hair. I looked up to see my dad with my hair wrapped about his cock, his eyes glazed with lust.

It occurred to me abruptly that none of this was normal. That it wasn't normal for waiters to fuck diners in front of their families, that it wasn't normal for all the other diners to stare at me as if being a cum-covered slut in public were just something deserving of mild disapproval.

I remembered how horrified I had been at the start, and how inexplicable my reactions had been since. "Stop," I pleaded, trying to stand.

"Take it, whore," my mum said, pushing down on my back. Jason moaned and cum burst out against my face, my eyes stinging suddenly. My dad tugged fiercely on my hair as his cum soaked into it.

And the waiter laughed as he finished, his cum erupting deep inside me, triggering my own unwanted climax, my ass contracting rhythmically about my mother's finger as my cunt milked every drop from the cock convulsing wonderfully within.

"No," I cried, overwhelmed with confusing pleasures. How had this celebratory dinner turned into an incestuous gangbang!

"Tiramisu," my dad decided.

"Just coffee for me," my mum said.

"Panna cotta," Jason said.

I slumped back into my seat, bewildered, wiping my eyes and distantly noting the absence of the dildo that the waiter must have taken away. There was cum in my hair and on my face, on my breasts and in my cunt, and tears of pain as much as pure humiliation streaming down my cheeks. I dressed myself quietly, annoyed on top of everything that my bra and thong had vanished, and cleaned myself with the increasingly cum-soaked napkin as best I could.

None of them acknowledged my presence. Jason and my parents spoke in a friendly manner with each other, as if nothing extraordinary had just happened, as if I wasn't sitting beside them sobbing my heart out. Gradually I tuned into what they were saying. "We're agreed, then," Jason said. "You'll each get ten percent of her earnings, in perpetuity."

"What are you saying?" I cried.

"Hush, my little puttanesca," Jason said. "We're going to be married, remember? A church wedding, a white dress?"

I calmed slowly, grateful that he was saying something normal at last. "Yes," I murmured.

"And afterwards," my mum said, "we're putting you to work."

"Planning for our retirement," my dad said. "You understand."

I didn't. I really didn't.

"You passed the interview," Jason said, smiling proudly, and abruptly the whole restaurant, diners and waiters, was clapping enthusiastically.

"You're going to be the star," my fiancé said, "of La Puttanesca."