Cuckolding story

Miss Erin's Homecoming Pt. 04

by Ajax

08/23/2016 11:24 in hotwife


Alex pulled the car to the front of Bistro Modello as his girlfriend languidly dismounted from her bull in the backseat of her car. Alex's poor, denied cock pressed hard against its cage. He shifted uncomfortably, not just from the chastity device which had become standard attire for him, but for the still-wet thong he was forced to wear under his uniform by his girlfriend. At the gruff instruction to take them to the restaurant he'd been circling for the past fifteen minutes, he turned a corner into the parking lot and pulled up to the entrance.

He knew he'd have to pull the car back to the employees' lot before he got out, so, distracted by the sex scene that had just played out in his back seat, he put the car in park and waited for his occupants to exit. It only took one cold stare from Brock and one annoyed sigh from Erin to inform him of his transgression, but it was too late. The barked order, surprisingly, came from his girlfriend.

"What are you waiting on, little boy?? Get our door, NOW!"

He was already fumbling with his own door handle as she berated him, and stammered out a "Yes, Miss, sorry, Miss," before scrambling to the rear door to allow them their exit. Brock was out first, muttering "fucking idiot," under his breath. Erin just shook her head as she took her leave, quickly grabbing Brock's massive arm and snuggling in close for the short walk into the Bistro. She made sure to wiggle her ass excitedly as she walked, knowing, somehow, that her downtrodden boyfriend was watching the whole time.

Alex knew he needed to move quickly so that his Keepers wouldn't be waiting long for his service. He sped around back and found the same spot he'd occupied during his training, heading in through the employees' entrance in the back and ducking through the kitchen until he reached the door to the dining area. He took a deep breath, straightened his bowtie and made sure the crisp shirt was tucked into his pants. He was perfectly dressed in the humiliating uniform, as well-trained to serve his owners as he ever would be.

He stepped through the door and went directly to the only table he'd be serving tonight, finding the happy couple's eyes locked on each other. Brock held Erin's hand on his side of the table, forcing her to lean over it a bit. Either intentionally or not, this gave him a wonderful view at her ample cleavage in the tight red dress she'd chosen to wear for their date tonight. As waiters often do, Alex only caught the middle of a particular part of this conversation.

Alex arrived just as Erin was beaming at her bull.

"... for taking me here, Brock. This is so romantic!"

Alex felt his cheeks burn. She had said almost the exact same thing to him on their first date here at Bistro Modello. She wasn't dressed in nearly the scandalous fashion she'd chosen for her new fuckbuddy, but she was a much different person back then. They both were. She was demure and shy, but one thing that never changed was her saccharin sweetness. Even in her vitriolic control of Alex, she drenched her words in cute little pet names. He knew she still loved him, she told him that often. She just loved him as a playtoy more than a man.

"Welcome to Bistro Modello, Sir and Miss! My name is Alex, and I'll be your server tonight," he started. Erin seemed amused by his greeting and identification, and Brock stared up at him with cold eyes, bordering on annoyance. Alex wondered for a moment if he should have waited for them to address him, but the successful real estate mogul continued degrading himself for his Keepers' collective amusement.

"We have a wonderful selection of wines available in our cellar tonight. Might I interest you in a bottle?" He asked, sweating a bit as he remembered having to spend much of his hour between his trainer's legs and 'earning' a menu in English. Because of this diversion and delay, he wasn't able to study the wine list at all. Now, Brock held it up, intentionally preventing his waiter from seeing the content inside the list.

"Yes," Brock began, "I'm feeling like seafood tonight. What's the best vintage in your cellar to pair with salmon or tilapia?"

Alex let off a sigh he hoped would be imperceptible. It's almost as if Brock knew that he hadn't had time to study the wine list and intentionally quizzed him on it right out of the gate. Unbeknownst to the poor chastity slave, he had been informed by Alex's demanding trainer, Miss Evans, via a text message of his inability to study the available spirits. Perhaps if he wasn't lost in his own concentration, trying to recall even the slightest bit of information he'd picked up on wine pairings with food, he'd have noticed the telling grin Brock was sporting. Erin eagerly sat forward to hear the response, in turn wrapping both of her hands around Brock's one free one as she looked up at her nervous boyfriend.

"Uh," he began eloquently. Desperate thoughts flooded his brain.

White wine with fish, or red? White, I think. What's a good white. Chardonnay? Merlot? Which one was white and which was red. And how would he possibly know if they had it in their cellar?

"We have a very nice Chardonnay toni ..." He was immediately cut off.

"From what vintner, and what year, wimp?" Brock demanded.

"I ... uh," he stammered again. He was had, and all three of them knew it. No point in dancing around it, now. "I don't know, Sir, I am not as well-trained on the wine list here as I should be. I don't have an excuse for my improper preparation. Please forgive me. I will be happy to find someone more educated on the wine list than I to assist you."

Erin was the one that responded, much to Brock and Alex's surprise. "You do that, little boy, and be quick about it," her eyes narrowed on her downtrodden boyfriend-turned-servant, "You'll pay for this fuck-up later. You can count on it." Brock seemed very pleased as Alex scampered away to the back.

He ran headlong into his trainer, Miss Evans.

"How's it going, newbie?" She asked. She seemed more cheerful than when they had first met, but still retained her air of superiority by offhandedly looking away from his eyes. Alex considered that she should be satiated and satisfied after his oral performance during his training session.

"Not well, Miss Evans!" He sighed, using the only name he'd ever known for this woman. Somehow, never having known her first name made it easier to address her in the required, formal way. "Br... Mister Samson had a question about the wine list that I was unable to answer."

She smirked for a moment, then her gaze went icy cold as she goaded him. "And just why weren't you able to answer it?"

"I ... " He began. Six months under the thumb of an oppressive ruler and playfully tormenting girlfriend had given him the ability to smell a trap. "I didn't manage my training time properly, Miss Evans."

She nodded, satisfied with his answer, but still returned a callous, "Dumbass. Well, I guess I'll have to take care of it myself, then."

He sighed a relieved sigh and nodded, "Yes, Miss Evans, that would be very helpfu.. ah.. Ahh!" He shouted as she gripped him by the earlobe and twisted it so he scampered behind her. She dragged him through the restaurant, garnering the stares and snickers of the other patrons as she walked briskly toward the two lovers' romantic table. This was happening too quickly for Alex to parse what was going on, but it was clear that he was going to be fully on display while his boss for the evening showed him up.

"I've heard there was a problem with your service this evening, Ma'am," Miss Evans asked Erin.

Erin broke her dreamy gaze from her beau and looked at the cold waitress, "Yes, in fact, this little boy had no idea what was on your wine list tonight. I'm hoping you have a better semblance of it, honey," she said sweetly to the woman currently physically dominating her boyfriend.

Miss Evans easily answered Brock's question, holding Alex hostage physically the entire time as she did so. She made sure to position him so he had to be at eye-level with a disdainful Erin during the entire conversation. Within minutes, Brock had ordered a bottle of 2012 Hanzell Sonoma Valley Chardonnay and Alex was dragged back into the kitchen by his ear.

Miss Evans finally released Alex's ear when they got back to the kitchen. With a smirk on her face, she disappeared to serve her own tables.

Alex quickly went down into the chilled wine cellar, going through the rows of bottles and taking an extraordinarily long time to find the exact vintage that Brock had ordered. Eventually, he did find it, but he guessed he'd spent ten minutes digging through bottle after bottle to find the correct one. Luckily for him, there was already a fully-stocked cart awaiting his return with a wine chiller, two bowl-shaped wine glasses, and a corkscrew.

As Alex approached the table, Brock had made a joke that had Erin in stitches, and, like last time, he only caught the middle part of the next sentence.

" ... mean, seriously, what kind of man allows his girlfriend to go out with another man to the place they first dated?"

He stayed silent as she giggled, not even noticing his presence.

"Your selection, Sir," he said softly as he held the bottle for Brock's inspection. He grunted, "About fucking time," and Alex opened it, then poured a small amount into one of the glasses and offered it to Brock. As if he was an advanced sommelier, he looked down at the liquid, sniffed it and took a taste, nodding wordlessly to his waiter. Alex finished pouring his glass and poured another for Erin, then spoke again.

"Might either of you have any questions on the menu?" He asked with a little more confidence. The thirty minutes he was permitted was not long enough to learn the intricacies of the offerings of Bistro Modello, but it's infinitely longer than the amount of time he was afforded with the wine list.

"Yes, I have a question," Erin spoke up, pursing her perfectly-stained red lips to hold back a giggle as she looked over the menu. "What are your sausages like, sweetie? Are they thick," she looked up at Brock and bit her bottom lip, "or are they petite and shriveled?"

With that, she reached over and ran her fingers over the plastic cage keeping Alex's cock resolutely at bay. The slightest attention being paid to it, of course, sent his libido into overdrive and made him moan softly. Her eyes widened and she grinned mischievously as she traced around the lace edges of her own thong that Alex was wearing. She kept one hand on his cock through his pants, the other on the stem of her wine glass as she looked up at him with wide eyes. She turned just slightly so that he had a full display of the view Brock had been enjoying all evening while she teased him. "Well, little boy? I'm waiting..."

He started, but she twisted his caged cock just a bit, making him draw a sharp breath before he continued. "Ah, uh, they are of the highest quality, Miss, I can assure you." He looked down at her and she didn't seem quite pleased with the detail of his response. He knew of one trump card that always bailed him out of situations like this. His own self-deprecation. "Much thicker than the shriveled little sausage in your hand, Miss," he said as his face reddened.

"I do want to have some meaty, hot sausage in my mouth tonight," she cooed at him, "Do you think you could help with that?"

"I can help with that," came the unrequested response from Brock, and Erin giggled before returning her gaze to her waiter, taking a long sip of her wine while she awaited his response.

"Ah, we do have a very nice chorizo gnocchi here," he half-moaned as beads of sweat formed on his brow. "Could I interest you in that, Miss?"

She smiled and nodded, "I trust the chorizo is ground up, the way a sausage whose only use is satisfying others should be," she teased ominously.

Alex just swallowed and nodded, "Yes, Miss, of course." Erin released his cock so that he could pay attention to his other customer. "And for you, Sir?"

"I'll have the roasted salmon with pecorino, wimp. And I'll be having your girlfriend in your bed, tonight," he unnecessarily reminded the downtrodden waiter. "Oh, and bring us some bruschetta to begin with. I'm starving, and I'll need to carb up to take this wildcat to task the way she deserves tonight."

Brock's steely gaze returned to Erin as he spoke the last sentence, but the barbs were clearly directed at Alex. He nodded curtly, his insides raging with desperate, long-overdue need. "Yes, Sir."

He went back and gave the order to the chef, allowing himself to think for a moment about what it would be like to fuck Erin again. He leaned against the doorframe and touched the tip of his caged cock through his pants, feeling it respond immediately and stiffen at the mental and physical stimulation. The dull ache of it pushing against unforgiving plastic made him groan with frustration, but his sex-addled brain allowed him no quarter. His mind's eye conjured up images of Erin naked, spread wide open and waiting for him. He saw himself, a strong hand on her shoulder as he pushed forward to insert his unfettered cock ...

"Bruschetta up!"

The barked notification from the chef broke Alex's reverie, snapping him back from his far-fetched fantasy into this reality. Where he was a mere servant to his girlfriend and her lover, not the suave, macho casanova of his brief flights of fantasy. He spun on his heel to take the well-decorated dish from the chef, then stopped short as his swollen cock bobbed painfully in its chastity device. After another pained groan, he took the plate out to the now-familiar table.

His girlfriend sat alone, sipping her wine and checking her phone until Alex approached. He set the plate in the center of the table. "Primo, Miss."

She responded with a wide smile at Alex, grabbing his wrist and excitedly asking if he thought Brock liked her outfit. Again, the inference that she was only interest in Alex's assessment of Brock's opinion, not his own. As he refilled their wine glasses, Alex assured her that she was stunning, which was met with a slap on the back of his hand and a scornful stare.

"I wasn't asking your opinion, pussy, I was asking if you thought Brock liked it!" She sighed dramatically, going back to looking at her phone, "You're going to have to do a better job of following simple instructions if you want that cummie of yours, sweetie."

Brock emerged from the restroom across the room, and Erin quickly waved away her boyfriend and stuffed her phone back into her bag. Brock always got her full attention, and Alex took the hint to scurry off.

As soon as he returned to the kitchen, Alex felt a vicegrip hand around his chastised member. It only took him a moment to realize that it was attached to Miss Evans, whose eyes showed a hunger that may not be able to wait until dinner was served to Alex's personal guests. She dragged him into the little dressing room where his old clothes still laid neatly on a chair, and she used a sharp twist of his balls and a hand through his hair to push him, forcefully, facing the wall. Her body nestled up behind his and she breathed hotly on the back of his neck.

"I trust you're performing exactly as I've trained you, little playtoy," she murmured as she squeezed his balls a bit more, making him writhe in discomfort against the wall. "I won't have your shitty performance reflect poorly on me." Her tone was malicious and biting, but Alex could feel her grinding her hips against his ass. She was certainly enjoying this power. "Maybe we'll have you back for a part-time job when your Keepers want some time to themselves," she mused, "Would you like that? More time with your cruel, wanton trainer?"

Alex remained silent before a response was forcefully demanded, and he gave the only one that would have been suitable. An eager nod and a cheerful, "Oh yes, Miss, I would ... arggh ..." He growled as his balls were twisted again, then quickly recovered, "I would love that!"

She smirked and nodded, suddenly releasing his balls as she spat at him, "I'll bet you would, you submissive chastity slut. I'll bet your customers are thirsty. Go see to them."

As he continually and dutifully tended to his customers, he continued only hearing snippets of what must have been scintillating and lewd conversation.

" ... going to fuck you so hard you won't ever be the ..." As he refilled their wine.

"... it was big, honey, but it wasn't nearly as big as yours ..." As he replaced the bottle.

"... make him watch, or lock him in his room?" As he served their dinner.

They consumed their dinner with notable efficiency. As he looked on from inside the kitchen, he saw the look in Erin's eye and the urgent gaze returned by Brock. They both had dessert on their minds, and nothing that would be served at Bistro Modello would do the trick. All the same, it was his duty to go through the motions. As they put the finishing touches on their chorizo gnocchi and salmon, respectively, he brightly asked if everything was to their satisfaction.

"I'm not fully satisfied yet, little boy," Erin coyly remarked, "but the food was quite good."

"Did you leave any room for dessert, Sir or Miss?" He inquired, already knowing the answer before Brock spat it at him.

"No. Get the car, we're leaving."

No mention of the bill was made, and none had to be. All parties involved knew that Alex would be picking up the tab. He gathered up the dishes from the table and took them to the back, running the check and looking at the amount. Two hundred and fifty-six dollars for one dinner was steep, especially when Alex had none of it to eat himself. As he was signing the check, MIss Evans approached from behind and swiped the pen from his hand. "No tip for the wait staff, little boy?"

He sighed exasperatedly, finally allowing some of the frustration to peek through in his voice. "No, Miss, I don't know what the point of tipping myself would be."

She growled and slapped his ass, hard. "Insolent whelp. That tip gets split between all of the waiters and waitresses, and the bussing staff. In this case, I don't think you'll see a dime of it, and that tone you just took will be going on your report card."

He sighed and nodded, beginning to write a more-than adequate tip of fifty dollars on the receipt, hearing the word "Higher," coming from his left. He sighed and changed the tip to eighty dollars before signing it and running the check. Three hundred thirty-six dollars total for the privilege to be humiliated and treated like the little bitch he had become. What a bargain.

Miss Evans had momentarily disappeared, but re-emerged and put a sealed envelope in his shirt pocket before giving his cock another squeeze through his dress pants. The contents of the envelope didn't need to be explained, and they clearly weren't for his eyes. "See you soon, cucky," she said as Alex departed through the rear entrance.Alex pulled the car to the front of Bistro Modello as his girlfriend languidly dismounted from her bull in the backseat of her car. Alex's poor, denied cock pressed hard against its cage. He shifted uncomfortably, not just from the chastity device which had become standard attire for him, but for the still-wet thong he was forced to wear under his uniform by his girlfriend. At the gruff instruction to take them to the restaurant he'd been circling for the past fifteen minutes, he turned a corner into the parking lot and pulled up to the entrance.

He knew he'd have to pull the car back to the employees' lot before he got out, so, distracted by the sex scene that had just played out in his back seat, he put the car in park and waited for his occupants to exit. It only took one cold stare from Brock and one annoyed sigh from Erin to inform him of his transgression, but it was too late. The barked order, surprisingly, came from his girlfriend.

"What are you waiting on, little boy?? Get our door, NOW!"

He was already fumbling with his own door handle as she berated him, and stammered out a "Yes, Miss, sorry, Miss," before scrambling to the rear door to allow them their exit. Brock was out first, muttering "fucking idiot," under his breath. Erin just shook her head as she took her leave, quickly grabbing Brock's massive arm and snuggling in close for the short walk into the Bistro. She made sure to wiggle her ass excitedly as she walked, knowing, somehow, that her downtrodden boyfriend was watching the whole time.

Alex knew he needed to move quickly so that his Keepers wouldn't be waiting long for his service. He sped around back and found the same spot he'd occupied during his training, heading in through the employees' entrance in the back and ducking through the kitchen until he reached the door to the dining area. He took a deep breath, straightened his bowtie and made sure the crisp shirt was tucked into his pants. He was perfectly dressed in the humiliating uniform, as well-trained to serve his owners as he ever would be.

He stepped through the door and went directly to the only table he'd be serving tonight, finding the happy couple's eyes locked on each other. Brock held Erin's hand on his side of the table, forcing her to lean over it a bit. Either intentionally or not, this gave him a wonderful view at her ample cleavage in the tight red dress she'd chosen to wear for their date tonight. As waiters often do, Alex only caught the middle of a particular part of this conversation.

Alex arrived just as Erin was beaming at her bull.

"... for taking me here, Brock. This is so romantic!"

Alex felt his cheeks burn. She had said almost the exact same thing to him on their first date here at Bistro Modello. She wasn't dressed in nearly the scandalous fashion she'd chosen for her new fuckbuddy, but she was a much different person back then. They both were. She was demure and shy, but one thing that never changed was her saccharin sweetness. Even in her vitriolic control of Alex, she drenched her words in cute little pet names. He knew she still loved him, she told him that often. She just loved him as a playtoy more than a man.

"Welcome to Bistro Modello, Sir and Miss! My name is Alex, and I'll be your server tonight," he started. Erin seemed amused by his greeting and identification, and Brock stared up at him with cold eyes, bordering on annoyance. Alex wondered for a moment if he should have waited for them to address him, but the successful real estate mogul continued degrading himself for his Keepers' collective amusement.

"We have a wonderful selection of wines available in our cellar tonight. Might I interest you in a bottle?" He asked, sweating a bit as he remembered having to spend much of his hour between his trainer's legs and 'earning' a menu in English. Because of this diversion and delay, he wasn't able to study the wine list at all. Now, Brock held it up, intentionally preventing his waiter from seeing the content inside the list.

"Yes," Brock began, "I'm feeling like seafood tonight. What's the best vintage in your cellar to pair with salmon or tilapia?"

Alex let off a sigh he hoped would be imperceptible. It's almost as if Brock knew that he hadn't had time to study the wine list and intentionally quizzed him on it right out of the gate. Unbeknownst to the poor chastity slave, he had been informed by Alex's demanding trainer, Miss Evans, via a text message of his inability to study the available spirits. Perhaps if he wasn't lost in his own concentration, trying to recall even the slightest bit of information he'd picked up on wine pairings with food, he'd have noticed the telling grin Brock was sporting. Erin eagerly sat forward to hear the response, in turn wrapping both of her hands around Brock's one free one as she looked up at her nervous boyfriend.

"Uh," he began eloquently. Desperate thoughts flooded his brain.

White wine with fish, or red? White, I think. What's a good white. Chardonnay? Merlot? Which one was white and which was red. And how would he possibly know if they had it in their cellar?

"We have a very nice Chardonnay toni ..." He was immediately cut off.

"From what vintner, and what year, wimp?" Brock demanded.

"I ... uh," he stammered again. He was had, and all three of them knew it. No point in dancing around it, now. "I don't know, Sir, I am not as well-trained on the wine list here as I should be. I don't have an excuse for my improper preparation. Please forgive me. I will be happy to find someone more educated on the wine list than I to assist you."

Erin was the one that responded, much to Brock and Alex's surprise. "You do that, little boy, and be quick about it," her eyes narrowed on her downtrodden boyfriend-turned-servant, "You'll pay for this fuck-up later. You can count on it." Brock seemed very pleased as Alex scampered away to the back.

He ran headlong into his trainer, Miss Evans.

"How's it going, newbie?" She asked. She seemed more cheerful than when they had first met, but still retained her air of superiority by offhandedly looking away from his eyes. Alex considered that she should be satiated and satisfied after his oral performance during his training session.

"Not well, Miss Evans!" He sighed, using the only name he'd ever known for this woman. Somehow, never having known her first name made it easier to address her in the required, formal way. "Br... Mister Samson had a question about the wine list that I was unable to answer."

She smirked for a moment, then her gaze went icy cold as she goaded him. "And just why weren't you able to answer it?"

"I ... " He began. Six months under the thumb of an oppressive ruler and playfully tormenting girlfriend had given him the ability to smell a trap. "I didn't manage my training time properly, Miss Evans."

She nodded, satisfied with his answer, but still returned a callous, "Dumbass. Well, I guess I'll have to take care of it myself, then."

He sighed a relieved sigh and nodded, "Yes, Miss Evans, that would be very helpfu.. ah.. Ahh!" He shouted as she gripped him by the earlobe and twisted it so he scampered behind her. She dragged him through the restaurant, garnering the stares and snickers of the other patrons as she walked briskly toward the two lovers' romantic table. This was happening too quickly for Alex to parse what was going on, but it was clear that he was going to be fully on display while his boss for the evening showed him up.

"I've heard there was a problem with your service this evening, Ma'am," Miss Evans asked Erin.

Erin broke her dreamy gaze from her beau and looked at the cold waitress, "Yes, in fact, this little boy had no idea what was on your wine list tonight. I'm hoping you have a better semblance of it, honey," she said sweetly to the woman currently physically dominating her boyfriend.

Miss Evans easily answered Brock's question, holding Alex hostage physically the entire time as she did so. She made sure to position him so he had to be at eye-level with a disdainful Erin during the entire conversation. Within minutes, Brock had ordered a bottle of 2012 Hanzell Sonoma Valley Chardonnay and Alex was dragged back into the kitchen by his ear.

Miss Evans finally released Alex's ear when they got back to the kitchen. With a smirk on her face, she disappeared to serve her own tables.

Alex quickly went down into the chilled wine cellar, going through the rows of bottles and taking an extraordinarily long time to find the exact vintage that Brock had ordered. Eventually, he did find it, but he guessed he'd spent ten minutes digging through bottle after bottle to find the correct one. Luckily for him, there was already a fully-stocked cart awaiting his return with a wine chiller, two bowl-shaped wine glasses, and a corkscrew.

As Alex approached the table, Brock had made a joke that had Erin in stitches, and, like last time, he only caught the middle part of the next sentence.

" ... mean, seriously, what kind of man allows his girlfriend to go out with another man to the place they first dated?"

He stayed silent as she giggled, not even noticing his presence.

"Your selection, Sir," he said softly as he held the bottle for Brock's inspection. He grunted, "About fucking time," and Alex opened it, then poured a small amount into one of the glasses and offered it to Brock. As if he was an advanced sommelier, he looked down at the liquid, sniffed it and took a taste, nodding wordlessly to his waiter. Alex finished pouring his glass and poured another for Erin, then spoke again.

"Might either of you have any questions on the menu?" He asked with a little more confidence. The thirty minutes he was permitted was not long enough to learn the intricacies of the offerings of Bistro Modello, but it's infinitely longer than the amount of time he was afforded with the wine list.

"Yes, I have a question," Erin spoke up, pursing her perfectly-stained red lips to hold back a giggle as she looked over the menu. "What are your sausages like, sweetie? Are they thick," she looked up at Brock and bit her bottom lip, "or are they petite and shriveled?"

With that, she reached over and ran her fingers over the plastic cage keeping Alex's cock resolutely at bay. The slightest attention being paid to it, of course, sent his libido into overdrive and made him moan softly. Her eyes widened and she grinned mischievously as she traced around the lace edges of her own thong that Alex was wearing. She kept one hand on his cock through his pants, the other on the stem of her wine glass as she looked up at him with wide eyes. She turned just slightly so that he had a full display of the view Brock had been enjoying all evening while she teased him. "Well, little boy? I'm waiting..."

He started, but she twisted his caged cock just a bit, making him draw a sharp breath before he continued. "Ah, uh, they are of the highest quality, Miss, I can assure you." He looked down at her and she didn't seem quite pleased with the detail of his response. He knew of one trump card that always bailed him out of situations like this. His own self-deprecation. "Much thicker than the shriveled little sausage in your hand, Miss," he said as his face reddened.

"I do want to have some meaty, hot sausage in my mouth tonight," she cooed at him, "Do you think you could help with that?"

"I can help with that," came the unrequested response from Brock, and Erin giggled before returning her gaze to her waiter, taking a long sip of her wine while she awaited his response.

"Ah, we do have a very nice chorizo gnocchi here," he half-moaned as beads of sweat formed on his brow. "Could I interest you in that, Miss?"

She smiled and nodded, "I trust the chorizo is ground up, the way a sausage whose only use is satisfying others should be," she teased ominously.

Alex just swallowed and nodded, "Yes, Miss, of course." Erin released his cock so that he could pay attention to his other customer. "And for you, Sir?"

"I'll have the roasted salmon with pecorino, wimp. And I'll be having your girlfriend in your bed, tonight," he unnecessarily reminded the downtrodden waiter. "Oh, and bring us some bruschetta to begin with. I'm starving, and I'll need to carb up to take this wildcat to task the way she deserves tonight."

Brock's steely gaze returned to Erin as he spoke the last sentence, but the barbs were clearly directed at Alex. He nodded curtly, his insides raging with desperate, long-overdue need. "Yes, Sir."

He went back and gave the order to the chef, allowing himself to think for a moment about what it would be like to fuck Erin again. He leaned against the doorframe and touched the tip of his caged cock through his pants, feeling it respond immediately and stiffen at the mental and physical stimulation. The dull ache of it pushing against unforgiving plastic made him groan with frustration, but his sex-addled brain allowed him no quarter. His mind's eye conjured up images of Erin naked, spread wide open and waiting for him. He saw himself, a strong hand on her shoulder as he pushed forward to insert his unfettered cock ...

"Bruschetta up!"

The barked notification from the chef broke Alex's reverie, snapping him back from his far-fetched fantasy into this reality. Where he was a mere servant to his girlfriend and her lover, not the suave, macho casanova of his brief flights of fantasy. He spun on his heel to take the well-decorated dish from the chef, then stopped short as his swollen cock bobbed painfully in its chastity device. After another pained groan, he took the plate out to the now-familiar table.

His girlfriend sat alone, sipping her wine and checking her phone until Alex approached. He set the plate in the center of the table. "Primo, Miss."

She responded with a wide smile at Alex, grabbing his wrist and excitedly asking if he thought Brock liked her outfit. Again, the inference that she was only interest in Alex's assessment of Brock's opinion, not his own. As he refilled their wine glasses, Alex assured her that she was stunning, which was met with a slap on the back of his hand and a scornful stare.

"I wasn't asking your opinion, pussy, I was asking if you thought Brock liked it!" She sighed dramatically, going back to looking at her phone, "You're going to have to do a better job of following simple instructions if you want that cummie of yours, sweetie."

Brock emerged from the restroom across the room, and Erin quickly waved away her boyfriend and stuffed her phone back into her bag. Brock always got her full attention, and Alex took the hint to scurry off.

As soon as he returned to the kitchen, Alex felt a vicegrip hand around his chastised member. It only took him a moment to realize that it was attached to Miss Evans, whose eyes showed a hunger that may not be able to wait until dinner was served to Alex's personal guests. She dragged him into the little dressing room where his old clothes still laid neatly on a chair, and she used a sharp twist of his balls and a hand through his hair to push him, forcefully, facing the wall. Her body nestled up behind his and she breathed hotly on the back of his neck.

"I trust you're performing exactly as I've trained you, little playtoy," she murmured as she squeezed his balls a bit more, making him writhe in discomfort against the wall. "I won't have your shitty performance reflect poorly on me." Her tone was malicious and biting, but Alex could feel her grinding her hips against his ass. She was certainly enjoying this power. "Maybe we'll have you back for a part-time job when your Keepers want some time to themselves," she mused, "Would you like that? More time with your cruel, wanton trainer?"

Alex remained silent before a response was forcefully demanded, and he gave the only one that would have been suitable. An eager nod and a cheerful, "Oh yes, Miss, I would ... arggh ..." He growled as his balls were twisted again, then quickly recovered, "I would love that!"

She smirked and nodded, suddenly releasing his balls as she spat at him, "I'll bet you would, you submissive chastity slut. I'll bet your customers are thirsty. Go see to them."

As he continually and dutifully tended to his customers, he continued only hearing snippets of what must have been scintillating and lewd conversation.

" ... going to fuck you so hard you won't ever be the ..." As he refilled their wine.

"... it was big, honey, but it wasn't nearly as big as yours ..." As he replaced the bottle.

"... make him watch, or lock him in his room?" As he served their dinner.

They consumed their dinner with notable efficiency. As he looked on from inside the kitchen, he saw the look in Erin's eye and the urgent gaze returned by Brock. They both had dessert on their minds, and nothing that would be served at Bistro Modello would do the trick. All the same, it was his duty to go through the motions. As they put the finishing touches on their chorizo gnocchi and salmon, respectively, he brightly asked if everything was to their satisfaction.

"I'm not fully satisfied yet, little boy," Erin coyly remarked, "but the food was quite good."

"Did you leave any room for dessert, Sir or Miss?" He inquired, already knowing the answer before Brock spat it at him.

"No. Get the car, we're leaving."

No mention of the bill was made, and none had to be. All parties involved knew that Alex would be picking up the tab. He gathered up the dishes from the table and took them to the back, running the check and looking at the amount. Two hundred and fifty-six dollars for one dinner was steep, especially when Alex had none of it to eat himself. As he was signing the check, MIss Evans approached from behind and swiped the pen from his hand. "No tip for the wait staff, little boy?"

He sighed exasperatedly, finally allowing some of the frustration to peek through in his voice. "No, Miss, I don't know what the point of tipping myself would be."

She growled and slapped his ass, hard. "Insolent whelp. That tip gets split between all of the waiters and waitresses, and the bussing staff. In this case, I don't think you'll see a dime of it, and that tone you just took will be going on your report card."

He sighed and nodded, beginning to write a more-than adequate tip of fifty dollars on the receipt, hearing the word "Higher," coming from his left. He sighed and changed the tip to eighty dollars before signing it and running the check. Three hundred thirty-six dollars total for the privilege to be humiliated and treated like the little bitch he had become. What a bargain.

Miss Evans had momentarily disappeared, but re-emerged and put a sealed envelope in his shirt pocket before giving his cock another squeeze through his dress pants. The contents of the envelope didn't need to be explained, and they clearly weren't for his eyes. "See you soon, cucky," she said as Alex departed through the rear entrance.


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