Just a Waitress

"Thank you." "Thank you." It was echoed a half dozen times in the Gentleman's Smoking Room as she handed them their drinks.

He gently fingered her plastic name badge. Feeling the slight tug, she turned toward him with a smile. "Maria Gonzales," he said thoughtfully. "A pretty name."

"Thank you." She turned to leave. He allowed the name badge to slide through his fingers. Hungrily, they all watched her leave.

"Whew," someone said fanning his face with his hand. "That is one hot piece of ass."

"That she is," someone else conceded. "And just a slight hint of a Mexican accent. Her parents were probably wet backs."

Twenty minutes or so later she returned to the smoke filled room. Smoke from their cigarettes, cigars, pipes, and even from the fire in the large fireplace made it an uncomfortable service area for all of the waitresses. Their only hope was to deliver the drinks and get out as quickly as possible.

She entered the room carrying the requested drinks on a round tray. She smiled. It wasn't a smile of warmth and friendship and certainly not an erotic, come hither smile, it was merely a smile of service. She passed out the drinks, but as she sought to leave a soft voice said, "Maria, would you stay with us for a few minutes."

"Certainly," she replied maintaining her "service" smile. "What can I do for you?" She took a step toward the speaker, but no further. She held her tray protectively at her chest.

Jim took several steps toward Maria closing almost all of the distance between them. She could smell his smoke laden body. As he began to speak again, she smelled the smoke from his cigarettes on his breath.

Though the tray was edgewise between them, he reached out putting a hand on her bare shoulder. His eyes flickered downward. She was used to that. That's why she was required to wear this skimpy costume. The built-in bra pushed her voluptuous breasts upward. Her short skirt showed off her trim legs.

Without warning Jim snapped the tray from her grasp. She gave out a short cry lamenting the loss of the little weaponry she carried. Jim set it aside saying, "You won't need this." He moved closer to her until only an inch or two separated them. She was a good six inches shorter than he making his view of her olive breasts perfect all the way down to her nipples.

He bent slightly, their heads almost touching. His lips brushed her ear. Fear mounted in the waitress. "It's time for you to take your pants off." She jerked, but did not move otherwise. "Your panties. I'll help you if you like." His hand slid from her shoulder to her breast. She drew a deep breath trying to think.

The passage to the door was closed off by the others who stood ogling her.

She said nothing, made no move to retrieve her tray, but started through the bodies between her and freedom. They did not move. She could not pass.

"You're so beautiful," one slurred. "We'd just like to look at you." He raised her skirt.

"Please don't do this." She was trying to keep her composure. Last time when she'd left the room she'd reported to the bartender that things seemed to be heating up in the Gentleman's Room. He'd nodded. "Well," she insisted.

"Talk to the boss, but not now, we're busy." He went back to filling drinks.

With a feeling of being let down and used something like a slut, she turned and went about serving the customers in the bar area.

Now she tried to remove the fingers holding her skirt. Finally in frustration she batted at the hand. It only pulled the skirt akilter. She pulled it up; he, with greater strength, pulled it down.

Someone ran his hand over her bare midriff as he squeezed her ass. She tried to spin around, but another hand on her skirt prevented it. Unfortunately, she knew that a scream would prompt her immediate and humiliating termination.

She was breathing hard. What could she give them to get free?

In a garbled kind of sentence she said, "What do you want?" They laughed as she tried to get the sentence together.

"You know what we want." A hand was resting on her breast. It's fingers began to unbutton the vest. There was nothing under it. It was forbidden by the establishment. Not even a bra. It was hard to put on since they insisted that it be much too small. Unbuttoned it would snap open letting her boobs explode from within exposing them for their entertainment. They would laugh and grab for them. She'd seen it happen to another waitress. No one would help that waitress. No one would help her.

There were only two buttons! One was open. The second strained as her full breasts pushed against the bodice as though yearning to be freed.

The skirt would follow. She was wearing panties, of sorts, a thong, but they didn't cover well. How long would it take for these inebriated men to pull them down. To her knees? Or further?

Then what? Tears were welling. Get control!

Their hands were eager, but not violent, yet. Someone jerked away the hand that had unbuttoned the lower button. Fingers were on the underside of her breast. She twisted. "Nice ass," came from behind.

"We won't hurt you," came another inebriated voice."

A hand was on the bare skin of her butt. "Wow, what a nice ass." It was the same voice that had complimented her ass a second ago.

The skirt had an elastic waistband. It wouldn't last two seconds.

There were so many hands. Some had found her nipples. One pinched one of her nipples. She yelped. "That didn't hurt," a voice chastened her. She twisted again and it happened.

"Oh, god, just look!"

She tried to close the top, but they were pulling against her. She cried out, "Please don't." It was too late. Her lovely breasts were on full view. In moments they were covered by hands, squeezing, pinching. Yuk, someone was sucking on one of her nipples.

She struck out toward a corner of the room only to realize that her skirt was at her ankles. She tripped and fell forward into someone's arms. The liquor on his breath made her nauseous. He held her by cupping her breasts in his hands. She strained to right herself, but she needn't have worried, there were plenty of hands to hold her.

"Told ya she had a nice ass."

Hands were here and there, squeezing, pinching. Her thong! There was no coverage in the back. God, she thought, her cheeks were bare. Hands had found them. She twisted.

"Love it when she does that. She's really getting a kick out of this. I'll bet she's really wet."

She felt the strap of her thong around her thighs. Only seconds now before she would be naked. Would help come if I did scream? Probably not.

She was no longer standing, just being held up by a dozen gripping, squeezing hands. Someone cupped her puss.

The rest until now had been horrible, but now it was clear that there would be no escape. The knight in shining armor would not make it in time. She burst into a fit of tears. They laid her on the soft carpet of the Gentleman's Smoking Room and carefully turned her on her back.

"Look, she shaved herself for us." There was strained laughter around the room.

The laughter faded. Through the haze of her tears she saw an erect penis. "You just relax, honey. We're going to have a good time, you and I." She never saw the face, but she did feel the head of his penis on the lips of her puss. He was on his knees, his knees between her legs. He leaned forward pushing his cock deep inside her. She steeled herself. Her puss was wet, thank heavens. His cock slid in.

The pumping began. The actual fucking. It was pretty much the way her boyfriend did it. Like him this guy lay on her naked chest feeling her hard nipples against his chest. He groaned and suddenly picked up his pace slamming his prick as far in as he could get it. Back and forth. Sometimes it would come all the way out. He'd slam it back in with brutal force.

Tears and snot rolled off the sides of her cheeks onto the carpet. Control! She hadn't been able to stop the onslaught, but she could control herself. She wiped her face and lay quietly as he worked himself to his crisis. Eventually, she had no idea how long, he came.

"Aah," he groaned. "That was heavenly. I may even do it again later." He stood giving room for another. As it turned out it was another and another and another until all of them had filled her with their warm cum. She had tried to relax. That had helped some. Her puss was sore, but she did not move. She was sure some would want seconds.

"Would someone find me a pillow for my head," she asked politely. They jumped to it locating a chair cushion which was too big. Someone balled up a pile of clothing which she said would be suitable.

"Could I have a blanket." Again there was a scramble and an actual blanket was located in a cupboard. They solicitously draped it over her. Someone put a toe in her now sloppy puss just before they covered it. Yuk, she thought.

They turned their backs on her to finish their drinks.

Someone called for another round. "I'll get Maria for you right away," the voice, probably the bartender, said.

"Ah, no," the gentleman replied. "She's in her just handing out a bit of joy for all of us. You'll need to get someone else."

The bartender appeared shortly with the drinks on the same type of tray the waitresses used. Startled at seeing Maria on the floor covered by a blanket, he deftly prevented the drinks from spilling and set the tray down.

"Are you all right," he said in a voice that clearly did not care to understand what was happening to her. "I'll punch you out when you feel like leaving," he said picking up both trays and, quickly heading for the door, he left.

They sipped at their drinks for a time then had another go at the pulchritudinous waitress leaving her more sodden than before, but with little more pain.

"Lets turn her over."

"Ah, no," slurred a voice.

"I guess that's about it," one commented, a sense of sadness in his voice as he slipped on his jacket. Another picked up a corner of the blanket near her feet.

"Hey," she snapped. Startled he jumped back dropping the blanket back over her feet.

The rest avoiding eye contact with their victim, picked up their sports jackets and were preparing to leave when Maria said sweetly, "Gentlemen, don't leave just yet." Thinking she had some new sexual excitement for them they turned as one to look down on the carpet at the woman they had abused half the night.

"Don't you think you owe me a big tip?" Of course, of course, they nodded at her and each other pulling out their credit cards. "I don't take credit cards," she said in as miffed a voice as she could muster. "My tip will be all the cash you're carrying. Depending on the amount, that contribution may save you from a long term in a moldy prison." They began to panic. Looking at each other they pulled out their wallets. Cash floated to the floor.

"Pick it up," she snapped again. "I'm not some whore you found in an alley. Pick it up and put it neatly in a pile. Call for me here tomorrow and I'll let you know if it was enough. Good night."

They placed the cash respectfully in a pile weighted down with an empty glass.

"How much would be enough," asked one brave sole.

"I'm still thinking about it, but be prepared to add to it tomorrow. Beyond that there will be no tomorrow."