Scenes from a Restaurant Ch. 02

This story contains elements of reluctance. If that isn't your thing, please check out the other great stories on Literotica.

This story is a continuation from "Scenes from a Restaurant, Part 1. To meet the characters and get the backstory, please read this earlier part first.

IV.

At the movies the next day, Mel struggled to follow the plot of the quirky French film. Her memory kept cycling through images of the previous night, inserting them at random in her thoughts. When she woke up that morning, she saw in the mirror the remnants of Mr. Marsh's abuse – long red streaks across her ass and the tell-tale yellowish purple beginnings of bruises. She squirmed in the theater now, the rough seat offering no comfort. Trent glimpsed her out of the corner of his eye and whispered to her. She smiled faintly and said she was fine.

They went for ice cream afterwards, Trent's treat, of course. He talked in his quiet, timid way, and Mel wanted to pay attention. He was such a gentleman, holding doors, paying for everything, asking about her and her interests. But her mind refused to focus, and she had to fight the gruff voice of Mr. Marsh replacing the soft, boyish tones of Trent in her head.

The only move he had tried to make that night was to place his hand on her shoulder during the film. It was innocent enough, but Mel flinched at the memory of the last man to touch her, so he pulled back. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, so she softly took his hand, drew it around her, and smiled. She liked him, she knew. She just couldn't yet carve out a space in her head for Trent.

After they parted with a promise to go out again, Mel sat on a bench to sort her thoughts. What was going on with her and Mr. Marsh? It definitely hadn't felt like a random hook-up. And it certainly didn't bring the warm fuzzies of a commitment. But what was it? That Friday at work, she got her answer. It was punishment.

"I need you to sign this before you punch in, Mel." Mr. Marsh had stopped her by the bar as she came in for her shift. She hadn't known what to expect – a secret smile? a passionate kiss in the office? a seductive wink? – but she had definitely not expected paperwork and his perfunctory tone. It was like nothing had happened.

"This is for your file. Just a standard discipline form stating we talked about the issues you've been having," he explained. Oh, we had talked alright, she thought. How could he be so formal now? Her head was swimming, and she signed on auto-pilot, not even reading the form.

"Thank you. Please be sure that your prep work is done early and that you are ready to go by 5." He spun and headed to the office, leaving Mel stunned and hurt and a little angry by the bar.

The next few weeks passed like this, with no acknowledgement of their tryst. Mel spent her shifts trying to forget him and her nights alone in bed, hands in her shorts, trying to remember him. Meanwhile, she and Trent had seen each other almost every day, and Mel finally was finding space for him. She liked him a lot, even more as he opened up and the shyness disappeared. The second week, they'd kissed. She had been ready for more, but his tongue stayed firmly in his own mouth, and his lips barely moved. Still, it was nice.

The third Saturday of their burgeoning relationship, Mel was in Morelli's getting ready for her dinner shift to start. Tina nodded to the door, and Mel turned to see Trent there, shifting his feet awkwardly. She rushed over to him and greeted him with a quick kiss.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I, uh, just wanted to see you. I was on my way to the library and thought I'd stop by."

"That's so nice. But you really can't be here. We're not supposed to have friends come in, and if Mr. Marsh sees you, he'll..." She made a motion of a knife across her throat.

"It's okay. Totally. It's cool. I'll, um, I'll go," he said apologetically. "Have a good night. See you tomorrow?"

"Sure," she said quickly, giving him a last peck on the cheek and ushering him out. She turned back and walked away but nearly lost her footing when she saw Mr. Marsh leaning on the bar. He'd seen everything. Oh shit, she thought. She steeled herself and walked back to the table with Tina. She stopped mid-crouch, getting ready to sit, when she heard his voice.

"Mel. My office, please. Now."

Tina gave her a baleful look and mouthed "good luck." Mel strode past the bar, the other employees watching her walk of shame, and followed him into the kitchen. The office door had barely closed when he turned on her.

"Morelli's has a very strict policy on friends visiting, a policy I know you're familiar with, Melody," he said. He wasn't angry, but she still squirmed under his gaze. He repeated the policy, but the words swam in front of Mel. As he talked, she glimpsed his belt, the desk, and the slight bulge in the front of his tight slacks, and her mind flooded with memories. She felt warmth spread from between her legs.

"Are you listening to me?" he asked. Her attention snapped back to the present.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Marsh." She nodded.

"You see, Mel, when you're here, I need you focused. I need to know your attention is on your job and not on kissing your little boyfriend there. Do you understand?" She nodded again. He regarded her. "Take off your shirt."

"What?!" she said incredulously. "I can't do that here! There are people outside! Anyone could come in."

He shook his head slowly, with a paternalistic look of disappointment.

"Mel, I thought we had settled this. 'Whatever I say,' remember?"

"Yes, but that was weeks ago, in the heat of a pretty stressful moment. You can't expect me to do this now," she pleaded. He had turned from her, pulling a folder from the filing cabinet. He sat on the edge of the desk, calmly pulled a sheet from the folder and handed it to her. She instantly recognized it as the discipline form she had signed. She looked at him questioningly. He turned to the second page, the one bearing her signature. Her eyes flitted over the text: "...second offense...," "...was disciplined appropriately...," "...agreed to do whatever management says in consequence...," and finally, her own name at the bottom. She regretted not reading it before signing. There was no detail of the "consequences" she'd faced, but her signature indicated her submission clearly.

He calmly took the paper back from her and set the folder on the desk. He folded his hands, patiently waiting, his eyes boring into hers. She knew what he wanted and reached for the top button of her blouse. He watched as her fingers slowly fumbled with each button. When the second came loose, her lapels fell to the side, revealing a deep line of cleavage. The third button revealed the smooth satin of her purple bra, the cups covering most of her ample breasts. She pulled the shirt from her skirt to reach the last buttons, revealing her taut stomach, and let the shirt fall from her shoulders.

His eyes were on her, devouring her, and she looked away. He stared at the shadow between her breasts and the soft upper curves, drinking her in. She wondered if the sight aroused him and involuntarily pushed her heaving chest forward, offering her charms to his gaze.

"Continue," he ordered. "The bra now." She took a deep breath, willing her shaking fingers to work. She reached behind her and found the clasp. Her full breasts were perky enough not to sag, but they dropped slightly as the bra gave way. She reached for the straps, but his hand stopped her. He was close now, and she could smell his aftershave and feel his presence. She watched his eyes as they followed each strap, his fingers drawing them down her upper arms and finally off of her completely. Her nipples hardened instantly at the cool air. He placed the bra on the desk and turned toward her, his hands upturned, and gently cupped the underside of each breast, hefting them.

"You see, Mel, I don't care what you are on your own time, but when you're here, you're my employee. Not Melody Barnes – Freshman, or Melody Barnes – Dipshit's Girlfriend. You are Mel Barnes, my employee." His hands wrapped firmly around each globe, squeezing her firm tits. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Marsh," she whispered. His fingers traced from her neck, across her collarbone, and down the upper slopes of each breast. He grasped her nipples between his fingers and gently tugged.

"Do you?" he asked again.

"Yes." He twisted her right nipple as his full palm encased her left breast.

"I need a server, Mel..."

"I know."

"...not someone's girlfriend or some dreamer caught up in her fancies." His fingers trailed down her ribs and sunk into the waistband of her skirt. She was breathing heavily, wishing he would yank it off. Her nipples were as hard as pebbles, the normally wide areolas tightly crinkled and dark pink. She wanted him to throw her on the desk or force her against the door and take her in every way she could be taken.

Her excitement reached a fever pitch as his hands left her and went to his crotch. She could see the hardness outlined by grey slacks and moaned as he methodically undid the trappings keeping it from view. She had never seen it, only felt it, and when it sprang into view, she was not disappointed. She had seen a few in high school, but to put them in the same category as the penis jutting up from his nest of curly black hair was not even sensible. It was long – almost impossibly so – and nearly as thick as her wrist. It jutted up toward his belly like an iron bar pointing toward her face. A bulging bag of skin held balls that looked heavy and swollen, and Mel felt another burst of fluid spill into her damp panties.

"On your knees," he ordered calmly, and now the hard cock was inches from her face, bobbing just a bit in front of her. A thick pearly of creamy fluid leaked from the tip, and she wanted to taste it. She had friends that had done it before, but blowjobs made her nervous and a bit grossed out. Now, staring up at his length, a switch flipped inside her, and she could think of nothing but wrapping her lips around the shiny purple head.

His voice brought her out of her reverie. "Must you be told to do everything?" he asked sharply. Mel gingerly wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft, her fingers barely encircling his girth. Her tongue lifted the pearl from his tip. It was salty but not unpleasantly so, and she wrapped her lips around the swollen head, the soft flesh belying the hardness just underneath. He groaned as she took more of him into her mouth, and Mel – eager to please – began to stroke him near the base as her tongue swirled around his head. Mr. Marsh knotted his hands in her hair and guided her head further down his cock, pushing more of himself inside her. She picked up his rhythm and soon her head was bobbing on his rigid tool. She cradled his balls with her other hand, imagining the thick, white fluid churning inside them. She continued to suck on him, managing to get slightly more than half of his length down her throat.

"Stop," he ordered, forcing her back on her heels. "Get up and turn around." The quick blowjob and Mr. Marsh's appreciative groans had made her pussy wet, and Mel was eager to feel him fill her pussy. She dutifully spun, pulling her panties down in the process and lifting her skirt. She smiled to herself at the thought of having him inside her once more, with just a tinge of guilt thinking of Trent. But not enough to stop her from spreading her feet and presenting her entrance to him.

She was expecting the warm tip of his penis, so when the cool wetness of his tongue pressed against her, she gasped in surprise. Mr. Marsh traced the tight lines of her sex, dragging his rough tongue the full length of her pussy. His firm hands squeezed her ass hard as he pulled her apart and held her open. The brief flicks against her clit were enough to get her juices flowing, and she knew his mouth and chin must be slick with moisture. He trailed a long, slow figure-eight across her clit, past her lips, and to the sensitive skin of her perineum. She clenched her fists and bit back a groan as the dripping pink tip traveled up to the top of the crack of her ass. He pursed his lips at the top, and Mel felt a copious stream of saliva pour from his mouth and down the dark valley between her cheeks. He pressed his thumb to her asshole, spreading the lubricant around her wrinkled skin and just inside. When she was coated with it, he pulled back, holding her open with just his left hand.

"Suck," he ordered, and she turned toward a black rubber implement he had pressed to her chin. It was narrow at the tip, thickened in the middle, with a wide, flat base. She dutifully took it in her mouth, despite not knowing fully what it was. After just a few seconds, he withdrew it from her mouth and pushed it against her ass. She squirmed as he worked the widest part of the toy inside her until her ring closed around the thin part that attached to the base. He released her ass, her cheeks closing on the toy.

"You need to be trained, Melody," he said. "Trained to focus and to follow directions." He slapped her ass with his hand, forcing the toy deeper. "Pull up your panties." She did. "Tonight, you are going to learn both. Keep this inside you. As you pick up food, as you take orders, as you help our customers. I want you focused, and this will help. It will take all your energy to focus on keeping your ass clenched, so much so that you won't be thinking about that little boy-toy, or what you're doing this weekend, or whatever silly thought enters your head." She was facing him now, and he leaned close, pointing his finger at her nose. "And don't let it fall out. It wouldn't do to have this fall out of your dirty ass and on to our nice clean floor."

Mel swallowed deep, her ass clenched tight on the plug, her pussy still dripping wet. Mr. Marsh went back to his desk, her cue to compose herself and get back to work. The taste of his cock was still on her lips, and his saliva mixed with her own juices in a pool in her panties. She started toward the door, every step causing subtle shifts in her ass that kept her on the edge. There was no way she was going to get through a night of waitressing.

"What's wrong with you tonight?" Tina asked her. It was halfway through the longest shift of her life, and Mel had just broken her second plate of the night.

"Nothing," she squeaked. She stared at the shattered porcelain, wondering how she was going to bend down and still keep the plug in her ass. As the night had worn on, her normally tight muscles had relaxed, forcing her to keep her cheeks squeezed together. She was starting to understand what Mr. Marsh had meant by "focus." She started for the bus station where they kept the broom and found her boss blocking her path.

"Pick it up, Mel," he said. She couldn't even respond. The sensations in her body had kept her breath ragged all night and now, seeing him standing there tall and commanding swept the remaining air from her lungs. She was immediately conscious of the dampness between her thighs and wondered if any of his saliva remained, or if it was all from her own body by now. She gingerly squatted down, feeling the plug shift and slide inside her. She struggled to keep her knees together modestly, but the angle was pushing the plug out of her.

She felt his eyes on her at the same time she felt the base of the plug press against the narrow fabric of her underwear. In a panic, she thrust her knees indelicately apart, wedging the plug back inside. The short stroke of rubber made her flush, and she swallowed hard, her hand closing on another remnant of the plate. Each time she tried to close her legs, the plug shifted, and her panic returned, so she was compelled to hold them wide. Thankfully, she wasn't facing the crowded dining room, but as she finished and glanced up, she saw an audience of one; Matt was standing ten feet away, with a perfect view. He nearly dropped the bus tub in his hands when he realized he was caught. His eyes quickly met hers, lust turning to shock, and he hurried to the kitchen. Mel was caught between anger, embarrassment, and a fleeting wanton pleasure at being watched.

She hurriedly stood, threw the plate away, and swept up the smaller pieces. Mr. Marsh watched as she went back to work.

It wasn't long before she had to head to the kitchen and see her peeping tom again. She still wasn't sure how to respond. Yell at him? Embarrass him? Ignore him? But as he turned her direction, memories of her fantasy of the young man rushed back. She clenched her ass, closing her eyes at the smooth sensation of the plug, and strode into the kitchen.

"Enjoy the show?" she whispered as she took the plates from him.

"Um, sorry, I, uh, didn't mean –" he stammered.

"Yes, you did," she said with a sneer. "You fucking pervert. Do you try to sneak peeks at all the girls' panties or just mine?" she asked meanly. The plug in her ass, the constant demands from Mr. Marsh, the humiliation at his hands made her bold. It felt good to be the one in charge for once. When Matt didn't answer, she continued. "Did you get good and hard again?"

"I don't – what are you talking about?" he played dumb, his eyes darting around.

"You know exactly what I mean," she said, teasing his wrist with her finger. "I felt it when you hugged me. So tell me," she said, "was your little weenie all stiff again staring at my crotch?" She was mocking him.

"Need to go stroke one out?" She laughed cruelly. "Hope you enjoyed the peek because that's all you're going to get."

He pulled his hand away quickly. "It was an accident, okay?!" his voice rose. "I didn't –" He glanced behind her and stopped. "Just leave me alone," he said and turned back to the grill. Mel's sense of triumph was short-lived when she saw what had stopped him. Mr. Marsh was behind her and had clearly heard at least part of her shaming.

Later, in his office, she could tell he was displeased. Most everyone had left, and she was standing before him, her hope of a reward for keeping the plug in her ass rapidly fading. Still, the low thrum of excitement it had kept up all night made her ready to feel his hands on her in any way she could.

He turned her around, his hands groping her ass, her skirt sliding up her thighs. He flicked his tongue against her ear as he whispered, "That wasn't very nice of you. To treat another employee like that." Her ass was fully exposed, and he pushed her panties down. "Broken plates and taunting a team member, Mel? Clearly, you still have a lot to learn." He twisted her around until she was bent over the desk.

Crack! The first slap on her ass jarred her, and she felt the desk slide. Her hands gripped the edge.

"Now, let's see if I get this right. You break a dish," SMACK! "then you spread your legs like a whore showing off her wares," SMACK! "acting like a total slut on the dining room floor," SMACK! "and then have the nerve to be a complete bitch to a guy who saved your ass just a few weeks ago?" SMACK! SMACK! Mel gritted her teeth. Her skin was burning, and each slap had pushed the plug deeper inside her. "At least you managed to do one thing right," he said, pulling the plug out. Its absence left her hole loose and gaping. He easily slid a finger inside, eliciting a groan from her. "So your training wasn't a complete loss." He slid his finger back and forth in her wet, wide hole, his thumb brushing the slick lips of her pussy below. He inserted his thumb inside her and began rocking his hand up and down, a digit in each hole. She felt the juice pouring from her and shook her ass. He took her to the brink before stopping abruptly, pulling out, and slapping her ass hard. He grabbed the bra strap through her shirt and yanked her upright, his hands immediately grasping her cloth-covered tits.