Self Serve

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.

She slipped the soft black fabric over her head, feeling the stretchy material fit the contours of her face and surrendering her vision to the padding over her eyes. Her breath quickened, the combination of nerves and arousal speeding up her heartbeat as well as the pulsing between her legs. She reached out to the wall with one hand, finding the large button and pressing it to signal her readiness.

She felt the door open more than she heard it; a soft breath of cool air emerged from the room inside, brushing against her chest like the touch of a feather. Already a bit on edge, Caroline's nipples immediately came to attention at the change of temperature and she gasped through the mask.

"Come on in," said a gentle voice from inside the room." Caroline stepped into the room, hearing the door close behind her. "One more big step forward, please. Good. Now reach up for the bar." Caroline did as she was instructed, finding the bar hanging over her head at a comfortable height. "Perfect, now hold it there. Don't let go."

There was some shuffling around her, and then the sensation of something being wrapped tightly around her wrists. The same thing happened to her ankles a moment later. Her dresser checked all the straps on her harness, adjusting a few of them and then lifting a net into place that would catch her head when it fell backwards.

A mechanical hum filled the room. Caroline felt her feet sliding apart as the machine pulled at her ankles. She gripped the bar over her head for balance and felt her weight being taken up by her harness as she was lifted. More metal clanking, and then she was being lowered slowly until her feet touched the ground again.

"Were you a good girl for us this week, Twenty-nine?"

Caroline flushed pink, just like she did every week when the dresser called her by her ID number instead of her name. With her sight taken away she could already feel the edge of an orgasm bubbling up to the surface. "Almost," she whispered.

A finger brushed her lips, effortlessly parting them and sliding through her wetness before coming to rest on her throbbing clit. "Almost?" the voice teased.

"Oh, shit!" Caroline yelped, pulling her hips away from the touch. "Please... I'm really, really close."

"I see. Is that a request for enhanced suppression?"

"I... yes."

"Very good. Tell me what happened this week, Twenty-nine."

"I was still so horny after last week's party, I got myself off twice before I could go to sleep. And, um, then again the following morning. But that's it, I swear!"

"I see. So, nothing since Sunday."

"No."

"Not even an edge?"

"I, um... I can't do that. To myself. Yet."

"Mm hm, that's what it says here in your file. Well, I can't give you the bonus this week, but I can mark down that you're making progress. Out of curiosity, you must have known you weren't going to get the bonus. What stopped you from making yourself come the rest of the week?"

The heat rose in Caroline's cheeks. If she hadn't already been fully blushing, she certainly was now. "I... was busy. I didn't even get around to shaving this week."

The voice laughed at her. A palm cupped her sex, feeling a week's worth of stubble hair but also obviously collecting a handful of her juices. "Busy? You're this wet because you were too busy to masturbate this week? I don't think so."

Caroline squirmed, but didn't pull away. "Okay! Okay. I'm... I've been practicing. Trying to, uh, work myself up to it."

"You really went the rest of the week without getting yourself off?"

"I swear."

"You're trying really hard to get that bonus, aren't you?" The hand pressed more firmly against her crotch, and Caroline found herself grinding against it involuntarily.

"Yessss..." she hissed.

"Is that all?" teased the voice. "Or do you really, really want to be a good girl for us?"

There was that damn phrase again. Being called a "good girl" felt like a wet tongue sliding over her clit. Caroline felt a dam about to burst inside her as her orgasm rushed to the surface. But the hand suddenly pulled away from her pussy and left her hanging there, desperately thrusting her hips forward in search of the touch that would push her over the edge. The waves of climax crested against her skin, searching for an outlet that wasn't there.

Caroline moaned obscenely. Her dresser chuckled, making more notes on her tablet. "Excellent progress on edging; very close to week-long denial. Very good, Twenty-nine. Keep up the good work and you'll be getting that bonus in your check in no time. Meanwhile, I agree that enhanced suppression is a good idea for today. Be right back."

Caroline twisted in her bonds, knowing full well that she'd been chained to the bar overhead and her legs were being held open. There was nowhere to go, and she wouldn't want to get away even if she could, but it was easier to channel the frustration into struggling against something. In truth, she'd spent the week going back and forth over exactly the same question that the dresser had asked. Was it really about the paycheck, or was there something about denying herself orgasms for the sake of this employer she barely knew that made the frustration even more delicious than the potential payoff?

"Here we go. Enhanced orgasm suppression, plus a little something extra to help keep you distracted."

Before Caroline could ask what "something extra" meant, the dresser caught one of her nipples between her fingers, followed by the sharp bite of a clamp. Caroline hissed; her nipples weren't the most sensitive, but at the moment absolutely every part of her was on overdrive. The other clamp went on as easily as the first, and Caroline whined as the dresser tugged on them a few times to make sure they were secured.

"Ready to fly?"

"Yes ma'am."

Caroline felt a tug at the leather harness wrapped around her body, and she gripped the overhead bar to take the weight off her feet. The mechanical hum started up again and her feet were lifted, moving her around until she was suspended in midair with her arms and legs held apart and most of her weight being carried by the harness. Normally Caroline marveled at how smooth and efficient the machine was, but today every time she moved even slightly the clamps jostled and pulled her attention to her nipples.

With her legs spread wide open like this, Caroline dreamed -- not for the first time -- about what it would be like to get fucked in suspension. She thought about the woman from last week getting triple-teamed and her cunt clenched involuntarily, begging to be filled. She gasped as a gloved hand touched her between her legs and spread something on her skin. Her denied orgasm skipped back to the surface, but between the clamps on her nipples and the effects of the numbing gel, the sensation dulled quickly. The dresser covered her crotch quite thoroughly, front and back, going back for multiple passes until Caroline could barely feel her touch at all. Even the sensation in her quivering pussy quieted down.

"Very good, Twenty-nine. We shouldn't have any more trouble." Caroline could hear her grin, even without being able to see. "At least until that wears off."

Some water splashed in a nearby basin as the dresser prepared to shave off her public hair. The washcloth was presumably warm -- it had been, in previous weeks when the "enhanced suppression" wasn't necessary -- but at the moment Caroline couldn't feel anything. The scraping sounds of the razor and the splashing of the basin were her only indication that anything was happening. The dresser made quick work of her, leaving her bare-skinned and smooth.

"All done," said the voice. "I'm just going to apply a bit of aftershave, and then we'll get your belt on."

"Okay."

Caroline heard the ping of the dresser's tablet, followed by a soft chuckle and the clanking of metal that always accompanied this part of the process. Each belt had been custom-fit for the server, and Caroline's fit perfectly around her waist. She gasped as the electronic lock closed and the metal belt cinched down snugly. The dressers were generally quite adept at their work and efficient in getting the belts on, but today the strap between Caroline's legs seemed to go on more awkwardly than usual and there was a heavy silence in the room while the dresser struggled to get everything in place. Finally, the second lock closed triumphantly with an electronic chirp, sealing the belt closed and locking Caroline's cunt safely out of reach.