You needed this job.

You needed to be here and to do this, if only to prove yourself capable of being able to do anything on your own. You were going to be your own man in this endeavor, well as much as someone literally owned by another could possibly be that is. You were after all a Slave, and your every breath in this bloody outfit reminded you completely of that fact.

None the less, you needed this. You needed to succeed here and make sure that your dumbass owner understood that your value should not be wasted in petty teasing and discomforting pranks, that you were more than just her chew toy and sex object.

You were not about to allow yourself to be dominated and objectified into non-relavance.

And that was exactly why you were here and now wearing this French Maid Dress.

... Well, that’s at least what you repeated to yourself in order to get to sleep at night. Not like you were c-ccomfortable in the dammed thing. No not at all. You didn’t like how the panties bunched and cradled your ass, how they pulled and caressed your neatly tucked away manhood. No even how the light breezes worked their way beneath the frilly skirt, forcing you to shift your thighs from time to time against each other.

You were not breathing harder… no not at all.

You were a dammed man, and you bloody well would serve here and now to prove it.

Hell, you’d managed to make it through at least four day so far without incident, you’d kept strong, knowing the influences which could have made a lesser man give up the ghost and just leave. Not that you could even if you wanted to, bound by your slave contract to obey the will of that evil woman and her wonderful hot cock…

…focus!

You need keep your cool.

“Bronze sweetie, stop day dreaming. There’re customers at table six and nine. Hop to it and serve with a smile!” The pink haired maid spoke softly, her large butcher’s knife waving dangerously in your general direction however was more than enough motivation to get moving.

You swore that the girl, for all her soft spoken sweetness was easily the most terrifying thing you’d met in ages.

“Yes Miss Akagi!” You responded automatically, just like every other employee within the establishment was conditioned to. You could practically thank her gentle yet menacing presence for the fact that you’d not yet slipped up in service of the goals you’d been set.

Still… there was clearly something not exactly right in her head... you often wondered just why her skin seemed to constantly be marked with henna tattoos which marked every exposed area of her body with a constantly shifting number of ‘for sale’ signs, and occasionally marked out butcher’s cuts across her body.

You tried very hard not to think on the implications of such things.

Very, Very, Very hard indeed.

“Hey cutie, you’re looking sweet as can be today, wanna grab me my usual, extra sugar too?” The man at table six asked jovially. He was a pretty nice fellow, a repeat customer who it seemed had taken a bit of a shine to you over the last few days. Probably the fourth time you’d seen him in the shop for the week, he wasn’t exactly a peak specimen of manhood, but he was nice, and he tipped pretty well too.

… not that you got to see anything from that money for yourself, thanks to your money grubbing owner… but at least the thought counted pretty nicely. He tipped higher than average whenever you let him feel your behind up discreetly… and he never tried to take it any further than a few discreet touches... you weren’t exactly sure what you’d do if he ever tried for more than that under Akagi’s watchful eye. It was after all, strictly against policy for any of you all to allow the customers anything more than the most incidental of touches. The hands off policy was pretty strictly enforced among the employees.

Anya on the other hand, your bubbly chocolate shift partner, kept encouraging and skirting right to the edge of regulations. It didn’t take you long at all to learn dammed well about her ‘After Work Special Services’ from customers asking if you offered anything similar.

You’d had to bury your junk in ice more than once after such requests.

You were dammed well going to keep this job.

“Tehehe.” You giggled just the way Luna had taught you in the Maid Boot Camp which had constituted the first day of the job. “Anytime at all sir, you can count on me!”

Well you didn’t need to fake too much of your cheer while serving him, especially at the moment you made your little twirl to go towards table Nine… and give him a chance to reach out and goose your ass nicely. You were pretty certain he was going to drop an extra twenty sky on you just for that.

Table nine, you didn’t recognize the guy. You already had a fair idea of most of the regulars, so this one was probably just a newcomer.

A wolfman, big and burly too. His muscles rippled beneath gray fur as sleek claws tapped lightly upon the table where he waited for your service. The only article of clothing he wore was a simple pants which reached down to his knees. His eyes locked upon you as you approached, scanning up and down as if you were a piece of meat being carefully examined.

“Not a girl.” He spoke, his first words to you accompanied by a cocksure grin. “But dammed if you aren’t a cute one.”