“Thank you, young man,” the older woman beamed as Chris delivered her food. She put down the tablet she’d been doing business on. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Chris returned her smile with a slight one of his own, “It’s my pleasure Mrs. Westworth. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Julia Westworth’s smile grew even larger as her eyes traveled up and down Chris’s uniform-clad body. That had to be the fifth time he’d caught her doing that tonight. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome. She was a gorgeous woman in her late forties with silvery blonde hair she had done up at the moment. That deep blue evening gown, the matching satin gloves traveling up her arms, and the jewelry around her neck, gloved wrists, and on her earrings weren’t hurting her in the looks department at all. But he couldn’t shake that awkward feeling he’d been getting all night. And it wasn’t just coming from Westworth, either.

“I think I will be quite all right for the time being,” she said. “I would ask for your company, but I suspect that you are a very busy young man tonight.”

Chris forced a little chuckle. “You can say that again, it’s crazy here right now.” A small frown crossed his face. “It’s kind of weird to see so many people alone, though.”

Mrs. Westworth’s chuckle didn’t seem forced at all. “I can imagine. Off you go now, I wouldn’t want to prevent anyone from having their food. I’ll send for dessert soon enough.”

The twenty-two-year-old waiter gave a half-nod, half-bow before leaving the private room and walking back down the hallways.

The Covington Club, a really high-class place near the woods outside the city, was probably the strangest place he’d ever worked at. It was a country club with a full gulf course and everything. Only seriously rich people could afford to come to this place. Like, super-rich. Top one or two percent rich.

And for some reason, a lot of the actual dining took place in private rooms. There were dozens of them off to the side. Half the diners went exclusively to the rooms instead of the pretty epic ballroom near the entrance.

Chris pushed those thoughts aside as the palm tablet at his waist, provided by management, vibrated to let him know another order had come in. He took a look at it – a Rothschild order, apparently – when he stopped to keep himself from bumping someone familiar.
 
Sandra Bishop was another club member he’d served a lot over the last few months, including tonight. Like Mrs. Westworth, she was beautiful. She was younger though, somewhere in her mid-twenties. A shorter, petite woman, Ms. Bishop had pitch-dark hair. She was wearing a crimson gown of her own, with matching gloves.

She was also a huge bitch, and at the moment was glaring at Chris hard enough to make him want to take a step back.

“Uh, hello Miss,” he said. “Was something not to your satisfaction tonight?”

The woman only sneered at him before leaving a confused Chris behind. The young man stared for a few seconds, suddenly worried that he might be about to lose his job when she looked back and took a long, angry look at him. Or more specifically, his body.

********

“Is it just me,” said Chris, “or are we all getting stared at like pieces of meat tonight?”

Sarah, Frankie, and Brad all turned from their food filled plates to look at him.

“Yes! Thank you!” said Brad. He looked at Sarah. “See? I told you it wasn’t just me!”

The nineteen-year-old brunette only shrugged. “Whatever. It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. I get stares all the time. I mean, look at me.” She took a step away from the table containing all the food she was about to bring out to a table and gestured at herself. Chris tried not to stare for more than a second. His new coworker wasn’t exactly hard to look at. Sarah was fit with firm c-cup breasts and long, soft brown hair.

And, as mentioned, she was his coworker. And a pretty awesome person to talk to. Chris didn’t want to make things awkward.

Also, Brad was her boyfriend, and Chris defiantly didn’t want to make things awkward with the six-foot-four, broad-shouldered former high school defensive tackle.

“I don’t know,” Frankie said. “Something about this night just feels… off.”

Now everyone was looking at her while she filled a plate with a guests’ order. She stopped what she was doing and looked back. For the second time in as many minutes, Chris had to make himself look away. The curvy black woman wasn’t hard to look at either.

“Getting some looks from a few guys, or even a bunch? That’s normal. Hell, Chris here just stopped himself form doing it right now.”

Chris coughed, “sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. A few glances here and there, that doesn’t bug me much. But this crowd just seems less… um…”

“Inhibited?” Chris supplied.

“Yeah, that’s the word. Like they got let off some kind of leash for tonight.”

Chris thought back to the stares he’d been getting from women –and a few men— all night. Three or four in particular – Westworth, Bishop, Rutherford, and a middle-aged man named Forsythe – were practically undressing him with their eyes every time he brought them food. Chris had been told that he was pretty good looking by girlfriends and dates in the past, but that wasn’t a look he was used to getting. Hell, it was a look that he would have wanted to get before he started working here. But Frankie was right, something was off.

The weird thing was that he’d served all four of those specific customers a few times since he started working there and none of them ever made him so uncomfortable before.  

“Whatever,” Sarah said again. She picked up her plate and headed for the door. “It’s not like it’s something I don’t have to deal with every day already.”

“Wait, what?” Brad asked as his girlfriend stepped out the door. “You don’t get stared at that often… do you?”

She was already gone.

“Fine, I’ll ask later,” he grumbled as he walked out of the room and turned the opposite direction.

“Chris, you’ve been working here the longest, right?” Frankie said.

“Have I?” He thought about it. “Huh. I guess so. I mean, there are plenty of people who have been here for years, but I got hired right after they fired a bunch of people at once.”

“So you weren’t here the last time they had one of these big dinners.”

“No, they do them every six months.”

“Hmm,” she seemed lost in thought. “Okay, thanks.” And then she was gone.

Chris watched the still swinging staff doors for a few seconds, lost in thought, when a vibration at his waist told him to hurry up and deliver some more food.

The next hour or so passed like any other shift. Mostly. Taking food to patrons and then back to the kitchen got dull quickly. It wasn’t quite like working at a normal restaurant. Chris wasn’t expected to make small talk as much as he was at his previous waiting jobs. In fact, he’d been explicitly told more than once not to speak unless spoken to here. The people who came here ordered on tablets, waited for food, then decided if they wanted to chat or not on their own.
It was an easy gig, if tedious. And the waiting staff here got paid like, twenty bucks an hour. Nobody cared whether or not they got tips. Maybe that was why Chris didn’t mind people like Westworth or Bishop eyeing him like hungry wolves. Sure Mrs. Westworth dropped a fork so she could stare at his ass while he picked it up when he brought her dessert, but with the money he was getting paid, did it really matter?

That was the thought running through Chris’s head when he entered the back room to pick up more food for another order, only to find his supervisor waiting for him.

Knight (his actual last name) was not someone one might expect to be working in a restaurant, no matter how much it paid. He was a big guy, over six feet tall with muscles to match. Chris was pretty sure the man was ex-military, but he’d never worked up the courage to ask. His boss wasn’t big on conversation, and wasn’t really around long enough to start conversations with anyway.
“Chris,” he greeted. “I was waiting for you. I need you to come with me.”

Chris stopped short, suddenly feeling nervous. Had Bishop complained about him or something? “What? Why? Did I do something wrong?”

The big man shook his head, which Chris somehow found less than comforting. “No, nothing like that. One of our guests wanted to tell me how well she thinks you’re doing.”

Well, that was just weird. “Is it Mrs. Westworth?”

A nod. “That’s right. She’s been coming here for decades. Hasn’t been impressed by the waiting staff in a long time. The last time I can remember was about four or five years ago.”

“Oh,” was all Chris could say as he imagined what exactly had ‘impressed’ the woman so much. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go, but people who said ‘no’ to the bosses here tended to get fired. “Okay, let’s go.”

A grunt was Knight’s only response before he stepped past Chris, revealing a confused looking Brad and Frankie right behind them. Sarah must have been out on an order.

Chris hurried to fall into step behind Knight, who marched them in a different direction than Chris had been expecting. They passed Westworth’s room and headed towards the exits, the ornate and also private coat rooms where the club members gave up their coats before being seated.

Chris still wasn’t sure why they needed private dining rooms and private coat rooms, but he’d long since learned not to ask questions like that.

“So,” Chris eventually said to broke the silence. “Is this something that happens often? The members giving personal thanks, I mean.”

“It happens occasionally,” Knight responded. “Ms. Jackson received similar compliments just before I got the call from Mrs. Westworth.”

So that was where Sarah went. Chris would have to ask her about who wanted to thank her later. Maybe it was one of the people who had been leering at her, like Westworth had been with him all night.

Knight held the door open for Chris when they reached the room, shutting it behind himself as they both walked through. It was the first time he’d ever been in one of these rooms, and it wasn’t anything like Chris expected. There were no coats, to start with. The décor was standard for Covington. Expensive carpeting, paintings on the walls, two fancy doors at opposite ends. The only furniture was a small table with a lamp on it right next to a rich leather chair facing the door he had just entered. It looked more like a viewing room than a coat room. Two men Chris vaguely recognized as more of his coworkers quickly stepped behind him to shut the door.

Mrs. Westworth was there already, seated in the. A thick, black fur shawl was wrapped around the woman’s shoulders, her gloved hands folded neatly over her lap.

To no surprise at all on Chris’s part, a wide, excited smile graced her expression as he entered the room and she looked up and down his body, not even trying to pretend she wasn’t checking him out anymore. She stood up as the door was shut.

“And here’s my new boy.”

Okay, that one was over the line. Chris started to reply when he felt Knight clasp a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at his supervisor just in time to catch sight of a blur where the man’s arm should have been.  

Chris could only double over when Knight’s fist was driven into his gut. He gasped for breath as he collapsed to his knees, and was still gasping when he felt a hand grip the back of his neck before another two wrapped around his wrists. In one smooth motion, the young man’s arms were wrenched behind his back and his face was shoved right to the floor.

There wasn’t any room for thought. Chris couldn’t question what was happening, he could only react. As he felt his wrists brought together, he began rocking back and forth as much as he could and kicking furiously into the air. The sudden explosion of movement brought Chris a precious few instants of freedom as he wormed his way out of his attackers’ grip.

It didn’t last.

With practiced ease, Knight and the other man brought Chris back under control. Chris felt his himself be forced onto his stomach long enough for a heavy weight to settle on his back, and felt his arms once again pulled behind him, up into the air. He tried to rip them out of the grip, but couldn’t. They had too firm a hold on him. He kicked, but couldn’t accomplish much more than tapping at Knight’s back (was Knight even the one on top of him?).  

By now, Chris had managed to suck in a few inadequate gulps of air. A weak “what the fuck?” was all he could get out.

Knight and the other guy ignored him as the third man stepped up. Chris couldn’t actually see him, only his shoe as it stepped right next to his head. A moment later, Chris felt something that felt like leather pulled tight around his right wrist, accompanied by the jingling of… a chain? Next he felt that wrist pulled towards his other arm, another leather bit of leather was placed around the other wrist, and his arms were cuffed together a few seconds later.

“What are you doing?” Chris finally said at something approaching a normal volume even as he felt two… pouches get pulled over his hands, shaping his fingers into fists.  

“Hush now, boy,” came Mrs. Westworth’s voice. “Just relax and let these gentlemen finish their work.”

Chris twisted his head up and saw the hem of the woman’s deep blue dress. He tried to kick out again, but the men had gripped his ankles and were cuffing those together as well, followed soon after by his knees, and another set above his elbows.

“Fuck you!”

He heard her laugh. “Such vulgarity. I’m going to enjoy teaching you proper manners.”

Chris let out another curse as he was pulled to his knees. Still dazed, the young man could only look forward and up to see the woman staring with a smile. The sight of the beautiful woman in that rich dress with fur around her shoulders grinning down at him while three men chained him up was… well, there weren’t really words to describe it. He could feel himself start to get a little hard at the sight of her.

“You biaaaaaaggh!” before he could finish the word, a rubber ball was shoved into Chris’s mouth, and he felt a strap tighten around his head as the ball gag was locked in place. Finally, one last object was brought out and locked into place. Chris could see it out of the corner of his eye and tried to jerk away only to be held firmly in place.

He could do nothing to stop the thick collar from being locked around his throat. Well, nothing except rant and rail at it behind the ball gag. “

“Stand him up for me, gentlemen, and hold him there.”

Chris offered some resistance as he was dragged to his feet, but nothing that might actually matter. He was stood on his feet, with four arms gripping his and keeping him in place while the middle-aged blonde examined him.

“Remove his shirt.”

Not even a second passed before Chris felt another pair of hands grab the collar of his shirt and start ripping it off his body. He kept trying to struggle, but the tattered remnants of his uniform and under shirts littered the floor in no time at all.

The sight of his bare chest visibly delighted Westworth. She drank in the sight of the bound and gagged young man held in front of her before taking slow steps closer.

The way Chris tried to shrink away was more of a reflex than anything else, one that got him about as far as the rest of his struggling had. He remained in place as the rich woman invaded his personal space, her breasts nearly touching his chest. Two or three inches taller than Chris in her heels, Mrs. Westworth looked down at him, radiating satisfaction as her hands came up to cup his gagged face.

The young man shivered as the soft material of the woman’s gloves made contact with his skin. Mrs. Westworth cooed at him, and he couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic.

“Oh, don’t be upset, boy. I will be taking very…” one hand left Chris’s face and traveled down to his chest, his stomach, and then down to his hip, “very good care of you.” Her eyes went further downwards. “I suppose I’ll have to start by having you start exercise,” she patted his abs. “You could use some more definition, and I want you to be as fit as can be.

Her free hand moved even further downwards. Chris could only whimper as she found his still stiffening privates. Her smile grew even hungrier as she felt him. It seemed she liked what was there. “Already excited, are you? Good. I’m excited too.”

Mrs. Westworth stepped back, and Chris sagged a bit in the instant before Knight stepped back in his sight, attaching a leash to his collar.

“Would you like us to prepare your purchase for transport, madam?”

Purchase?

“Thank you, Mr. Knight, but that will not be necessary. I am more than capable of handling one little boy.”

Cold anger settled over Chris as he the woman spoke. The confusion and distress abruptly cleared from his mind, replaced by an impossible calm. So she could “handle” him. Was that right?

Knight’s gaze passed over Chris with a skeptical look. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” Mrs. Westworth answered as she reached forward to grab the leash hanging from the collar around Chris’s neck. “He won’t be giving me any more difficulty. That little tantrum was nothing more than a bit of panic, wasn’t it?”

She directed that last part to Chris himself. He seethed and glared, ready to struggle and fight as much as possible. But before he could, something caught his eye.

Knight. The look on the large man’s face gave Chris pause. It wasn’t threatening or cautious in any way. There was nothing in the man’s expression that suggested he saw Chris as any kind of threat.

He looked bored.

A dozen little details came together in Chris’s head. The casual, practiced ease these guys had chained him up. The mass “firing” from six months ago, right before he and so many of his coworkers were hired. The way so many of the patrons had been openly leering at the staff all night. The bored look on Knight’s face, the casual way Westworth was treating the whole thing.

A cold chill settled over Chris’s gut. They’d done this before. The senior staff was… holy shit, they were all in on it.

“There, you see? My new boy is smart enough to understand his position. He will not be giving me any trouble tonight.”

Chris couldn’t even work up the energy to get angry when the woman called him 'her boy' again. He tore gaze away from Knight’s bored look and saw her hungry grin instead. Lowering his head, Chris nodded, and was immediately rewarded with another round of laughter from the woman who had “purchased” him.

A sharp tug pulled at his neck a second later, knocking Chris off balance and making him stumble before he found his footing. The woman pulled him forward until she was close enough to slip her arm through his, as though they were going for an ordinary walk.

Westworth directed Chris to the door. They didn’t move quickly. The short length of the chain connecting his ankles force Chris to take fast, halting steps.

“That’s right, come along.”

Knight beat the two of them to the door, taking hold of the handle. “Thank you for your patronage, madam.”

“And thank you for your lovely selection,” she responded. Then she turned back to Chris. “I’m going to have so much fun with my new property. Aren’t I boy?”

Chris didn’t know what to say to that. What could he say to that? He barely understood what was going on. Was this whole country club just one big, elaborate facade to kidnap people?

Seeing the confusion in his face, Westworth let out another laugh. “You know, I was going to take you straight home with me. But right now… I simply have to show you off a bit first.”

Chris’s head swiveled to the woman holding him. But she was already looking forward, nodding to Knight. The door opened, and the bound and gagged boy’s new owner pulled him through.