It’s afternoon. Well dressed guests are spread throughout a mansion’s entertaining spaces. Music from a string quartet drifts through the air with the sound of voices. Elaborate gardens serve as a backdrop to the scene. Servers in the requisite black and white pass finger food and champagne, which I’m refilling. Everyone is mingling and chatting.
Then I see someone in a bow tie grab one of the passing servants by the ass and feel her up while continuing his conversation with another guest. And I’m not surprised – our contracts stated that we’re also part of the entertainment.
I am surprised a few minutes later when a woman points me in the direction of a man who clearly doesn’t need a refill. The way he looks at me as I walk up is clinical, the way you’d analyze a menu before deciding what you’ll order. He nods just as I reach him and takes my arm, champagne and all. He leads me to the nearest wall, pushes me against it, and puts the champagne bottle against my lips. I drink, and feel his hands roaming over me.
He’s quick, and again, impersonal. He does all the right things – a touch here, a pinch here, a rub there – but there’s no passion in it. He’s just doing what’s necessary. After I finish the bottle, he spins me so I’m facing the wall, lifts my knee-length black dress, undoes his fly, and holds my hips in place as he plunges into me. I’m just wet enough for it not to be painful.
He fucks me against the wall, moving me as he wants, and I have the best view of gilded plaster in front of me and a couple having a perfectly normal conversation next to us. The woman looks over at us and smiles and damn if the realization of just what’s happening – being fucked by a stranger on a whim – doesn’t sink in and majorly turn me on. The man inside me picks up the pace, pulling me back a few steps so I’m forced to bend forward at the hips. My ass is out and anyone who wants to can see him pounding into my bare pussy – no underwear was also in the contract. I nearly cum at the sheer thought of it.
Then he does cum. He pulls out, wipes himself off with the napkin from the champagne bottle, and hands it back to me before walking off and wandering toward the gardens. I take a second to breathe, wipe my dripping cunt with that same napkin, and try to not look like I’ve just been a complete slut. I put my dress back into place and walk off to the kitchen in search of another champagne bottle – and hopefully, another fuck.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/n5figp/f25_sluts_fantasy_about_being_a_server_and_sexual
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