"Damnit girl! Watch what you're doing!" I wasn't normally this harsh with waitresses, but then, I didn't normally get hot coffee poured in my lap!
"Oh! I'm sorry, Sir!" the auburn-haired young lady cried. Something in the way she said it... or maybe it was her posture...
Whatever triggered it, I was beginning to get a feeling about this young lady. 'Let's just see... !' I told myself. There weren't many people in the cafe, and none nearby, so I quickly devised a little test.
"What's your name, girl!" I snapped.
"Amy, sir!" she answered meekly, head down, hands wanting to clasp each other, but having nothing to hold onto but the coffee pot.
"Put the pot down before you scald someone else, Amy!" I said, watching her face.
She quickly fumbled the coffee pot onto the table, then started fidgeting with the little apron she wore.
"Go to the back and get three CLEAN towels." I commanded, "Two of the towels are to be damp - not wet - with warm water. The third is to be dry. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir!" she answered, but she still stood, head down, as if waiting for more orders.
"Well?" I said, "What are you waiting for? Hop to it before these stains get set!"
"Oh!" she cried, "Yes, sir!"
While she was gone, I deliberately shifted my cock to the coffee-stained leg of my trousers.
She returned in a few minutes with the required towels, holding them out to me.
"What are you waiting for, girl?" I said evenly, "Clean this mess up, then dry my pants with the other towel!"
She quickly knelt beside me and dabbed at the 'safe' areas with one of the damp towels.
"Are you petting me, girl," I asked quietly, "or cleaning up your mess?"
"I'm, uh, I'm cleaning... uh, that is, I'm, uh..." she stammered.
"I want those stains, all of them, gone, girl!" I didn't raise my voice, just hardened my tone.
"Yes, sir!" she answered, and started scrubbing at the material, still trying to avoid the elongated bulge of my 'third' leg.
"All of them, girl!" I hissed.
She gulped and nodded, starting to tentatively scrub at the bulge as well. My cock, of course, started to grow and elongate. Amy stared fixedly at it, swallowing hard, as she continued her cleaning duties. I handed her the second towel and took the first, putting it on top of the table. Amy's strokes were no longer confining themselves to the stained area, but were vigorously traveling the length of my bulge. Her breath was coming faster. I watched down the scooped neck of her top as her lovely breasts pressed rhythmically against the fabric.
I handed her the dry towel and said softly, "Now, dry!"
She looked briefly at my face, lips slightly parted, cheeks flushed, then returned to her task. She was very diligent, never looking up until I was dry as a dishtowel could make me.
"When is your next break, Amy?" I asked as she knelt beside me.
She glanced at the watch she wore on her left wrist and said, "In about fifteen minutes, sir."
I handed her the towels and said, "Finish pouring my coffee, and come back here on your break."
"Yes, sir!" she said. Her hand trembled as she poured, but all of it went into the cup.
As she turned to leave, I said sharply, "Amy!"
"Yes, sir?" she turned back expectantly.
"Before you come back here, go to the bathroom and remove your bra and panties and bring them to me." I said softly.
Her eyes went wide and her mouth worked as she swallowed several times, but finally she nodded and scurried off. I tried to remain calm over the next quarter hour and not think about the consequences of Amy going to her boss or the sheriff with her story. Amy, though was having difficulties. She dropped a tray of dirty dishes, then, while trying to clean up the mess, knocked over a couple of chairs.
One of the old women in the front of the cafe asked irritably, "What's gotten into you today, Amy? You've got the dropsy something awful!"
Amy did her best to smooth things over and wound up making them worse. Things progressed from bad to worse until Harvey, the owner of the cafe, had had enough.
"I don't know what's gotten into you, Amy, but you'd better take the rest of the day off before you knock the whole place down!"
"I'm sorry, Harvey!" she wailed, "I'll do better! I just need to calm down some!"
"Amy," Harvey said, "you're usually the best waitress I've got, but today you're an accident looking for a place to happen. Just take the rest of the day off and get whatever's got you so jittery out of your system!"
"If you say so, Harvey." Amy glanced quickly in my direction, then at the exit door, then at the restroom door. I could almost hear the gears turning in her mind. Face flushed, she headed for the bathroom, paused for a moment with her hand on the door, then went inside.
It was several minutes before she emerged, a wadded up bundle of fabric in one hand, and slipped into the booth across the table from me.
"Put them on the table." was all I said.
Blushing even more, she gave me a startled look, then, hesitantly, placed the hand holding her little bundle on the table, reluctantly letting it open to release the items on the tabletop. Had we been anywhere else, I would have let them stay in plain view, but I didn't really want our sleepy little community waking up to my true nature, so I took the flimsy little bits of satin and stuffed them in my pocket.
"Why did you do that, Amy?" I asked in a low voice.
"B-because you told me to, sir." she mumbled.
"Do you do everything someone tells you to do?"
"No, sir!" she blushed again.
"Then why this time?" I gazed intently into her eyes.
"I-I don't know, sir." she flushed even more, her young face a mask of anxiety.
"Shall I tell you why?"
She gulped and nodded, her auburn tresses hiding her face for just a moment.
"You are a submissive, Amy." I said evenly, "Someone who needs another person to tell her what to do - to surrender her life to."
"That's not true!" she cried defensively. "I'm not like that at all! Just ask anyone!"
"You are with ME." I replied, "Take the middle finger of your right hand and stick it deep into your pussy. If it doesn't come out slimy with your juice, I'll admit that I was wrong and leave you alone."
"I can't do that!" she whispered fiercely, "Not here! Someone will see!"
"No one can see what you do under this table, Amy." I said, "Do it now or leave!"
Blushing again, she moved her right hand under the table. Her lush lips parted and her eyelids fluttered as she impaled herself on her finger. Drawing it out, she tentatively raised her extended finger, practically running with her passion, above the table-top. She gazed at the fluids running down her hand fearfully, shaking her head in denial.
"Do you have a boyfriend, Amy?" I asked softly.
"No, sir." she replied absently, still staring at her finger. "I date a couple of the local boys now and then, but nothing serious."
"Stop seeing them." I said.
That got her attention. Eyes riveted to mine, she asked, "Why?"
"Because you belong to me now." I replied, "I won't have others using my property without my permission."
I half-expected a tirade, and her head did start to shake involuntarily in denial, but she just shivered and whispered, "Yes, sir."
"Do you know where I live, Amy?"
"Yes, sir." she was gazing raptly at my face, as if seeing me for the first time.
I threw a couple of bills on the table to cover my meal and her tip and said, "Be there in one hour."
About forty-five minutes later, her little Toyota pulled up into the front yard. I watched from inside the screen door as she got out and climbed the steps to the front porch. Since she was coming into shadow from bright sunlight, she didn't see me behind the screen until she was reaching to knock on the doorframe.
"Remove your clothes. Fold them, and hand them to me." I said calmly through the mesh, "Each time you come here, you will do this, without being told."
"Here?!" she cried, looking desperately around the clearing, "Somebody might see!"
"No one will see," I said calmly, "except me and anyone I choose to allow to see you. Now do it! You're wasting time!"
Still flushed and nervous, she reached back and slid the zipper of her dress down to her ass. Amy shrugged out of the bodice but kept it clasped tightly in front of her until she saw my expression harden. Slowly, in fits and starts, she let the fabric slip away from her breasts, pausing again as auburn curls began to show.
"I said 'strip', Amy! Not 'strip-tease'!"
With a start, she dropped the dress, stepping daintily out of it as it puddled around her feet. She picked it up, folded it as best she could, and handed it around the screen to me.
"Shoes and socks too!"
She stepped on the heel of one shoe and pulled her foot out, using her sock-covered foot to do the same with the other shoe. Bending over, she gave me a delightful view of her young breasts as she removed her socks.
As she straightened, and handed me her shoes with socks tucked inside, she started to cover herself with her hands, but realized that was not what I wanted, and dropped her arms self-consciously to her sides.
.... There is more of this story ...