“Oh, I’m so sorry, Master! It was an accident, I promise!” The plea from the beautiful maid was accompanied by the flutter of eyelashes and a curtsey low enough to offer her patron a lingering glimpse of her cleavage, and Cecelia smiled as blue eyes widened at the sight. Latex squeaking, the curvy redhead rose up and strode over to him, taking care to step around the dollop of whipped cream she’d “accidently” sprayed onto the floor. “You’re not upset with me, are you?”
“That depends,” he replied slyly, the strong tenor of his voice sending a shiver of delight along her spine. There were many perks of working at the Queen Street Maid Café; good pay, free meals, a strong benefits package, bosses who took great care to attend to the wellbeing of their staff, the maid outfits themselves… But for Cecelia, the opportunity to flirt with handsome customers was perhaps the most noteworthy, and this one was certainly a catch. From the moment he walked into the café, rain dripping from his coat, she’d been entranced by him; those bright blue eyes, those handsome, strong features, that warm voice, the way his well-tailored suit fit about his muscled figure. She’d likewise been delighted when he requested a private booth at the back of the café, a part of the business that catered to a very specific clientele, and now did not resist as he tilted her head up to face her, a bemused smile on his face. “How exactly are you going to make it up to me?”
“Oh, I’ll do anything, Master,” Cecelia said breathlessly. At twenty-two, she was rather beautiful and well knew it, her long hair like burnished copper, her features delicate, skin glowing, green eyes bright with merriment, and full lips curling upwards in am easy, mischievous smile. There was a vivacity to her, a lust for life that had turned the heads of more than a few of the café’s patrons, and privately, she rather enjoyed the attention… not to mention the generous tips that went with it. And after working there for a full six months, she’d become quite comfortable in the stereotypical French maid outfit that served as her uniform. The garment was made of latex for maximum sex appeal, and she often found herself admiring her reflection before each shift, her feminine attributes flattered by the tight fit of the black dress and white latex garter stockings, while a black leather choker and knee-high boots completed the ensemble. She was one of the most popular hostesses at the café, and that was just in the front sections, where the general public could stop in for a bite to eat and some of the best coffee in the city, all served with a smile.
But it was in the back of the café, in the private booths shielded from curious onlookers, and where a select few customers paid exorbitant sums for special privileges with willing hostesses, where Cecelia enjoyed working the most, and she gave a soft moan as strong hands cradled her waist. “Do accidents often happen when you serve a customer?” the man asked, breath delightfully warm upon her skin.
“Of course, Master,” she whispered, biting her lower lip. “I’m just a cute, clumsy maid, after all. I hope you can forgive me for that.”
“I think I could be persuaded.” He glanced over at the selection of objects mounted on a wall rack, a selection most of the café’s customers never even knew existed, and Cecelia felt her heart race as he took a pair of leather cuffs. “Are you sure you want this?” he asked, flirtations replaced with sincerity.
Heart pounding at her breast, the redhead nodded. “I am. Trust me, I wouldn’t have signed up for this if I wasn’t up for it.”
The first cuff closed about her right wrist. “Then let’s get you nice and secured, my pretty little maid. Wouldn’t want you have to have another accident, after all…”