Dinner

What's the big deal about dinner, anyway? People eat. Stuff needs to be put on the table. It's normal and every-day mundane.

Or is it?

When kinky people are involved, the ordinary can take on facets and become wonderfully twisted in a fun-house version of reality. Emphasis on "fun." So, dinner...

As I've described in my posts over the past couple of months, I've met a lovely Domme who has spent the time to get to know me. Out of this has come trust, and a willingness by both of us to try new things. She has pushed my sub buttons, pushed my endurance and pain threshholds, and decided that it was time to push one of my fantasies out of my head and into the light of day. This is no small feat, as some of my thoughts -- even among kinky people -- stay buried and guarded.

She sent an e-mail asking if I was available on a specific night. Matter-of-factly, she mentioned that I would be serving dinner to her and another Domme friend. I've never been exposed to multiple people like that before. But it got better. The friend would be bringing a friend... a friend of the male persuasion... and I'd be serving all of them dressed as a maid.

I have no idea why I didn't hyperventilate and keel over. I don't DO public, even semi-public, and dressing is decidedly difficult territory for me. My femme wardrobe had been sitting almost forgotten in drawers and on hangars, forlorn for many months and years. But she wasn't asking if I would. She was stating it and verifying that I didn't have unbreakable plans that night.

I accepted the date.

The lead-up to the evening caused me to think carefully. There was no way I was going to let her down, and I stated early on that I wanted a clear path to "success." I couldn't figure out how I was going to measure "success," though, while dressed in a satin maid's uniform and serving food to a group that I mostly didn't know. So we talked about it. And we talked some more. I asked questions via e-mail. "Do I serve you first as the Mistress, or your guests because they are guests?" Finally, I put on my chastity device, packed my kinky things, and headed over to her house.

I put on my working uniform and cleaned the house for the visitors, vacuuming, dusting, preparing the kitchen and dining room. Then I changed into the formal serving uniform: classic black satin English maid's uniform complete with white petticoats that I bought from Versatile Fashions years ago. Then I realized that I forgot my good shoes. The low-heel ones would have to do. Why was I so upset at not having my higher heels? What was getting into me?

Mistress wanted me to wear a service collar that night, so she wrapped a thick and heavy leather-and-metal contraption around my neck and buckled it in place around the high neck of the dress.

I answered the door when the guests arrived -- and yes, I hid a bit from street view behind the kitchen door -- and was introduced. I took drink orders and went to fetch those while they began a tour of the house. My hand was shaking as I tried to scoop ice out of the freezer, so I concentrated on my task. I eventually pulled the orders together and delivered them and returned to heat the meal.

Fortunately, I didn't have to cook. Mistress -- in a move I can only describe as self defense -- had ordered takeout that had arrived about the time I did, so I was mostly heating things up. More drinks, everyone seated in the dining room, and my nerves finally started to settle down a little. Being busy really, really helped and I felt relieved as the second and third round of (mildly stiff) drinks were consumed. The guests acted as if nothing strange was going on at all, very likely expert coaching ahead of time. As kinky people, they adapted quickly. In fact, Mistress's friend made some very helpful suggestions that helped both of us through the thicket of protocol.

As I served dinner, I realized that I had mostly been invisible in the kitchen, but while dishing food and filling drinks I was very much on display. Nerves creeped back, and I focused on keeping it simple and doing what needed to be done. Once the main dish was served, I was able to retreat to the corner to stand attentively with my eyes lowered.

This was the first time all night that I didn't have something to do, so my mind -- and I know this will be a shocker to my frequent readers -- began to pull apart the situation and what I was feeling. The immediate sensation was a feeling of being "left out." This was part of what I wanted, to inhabit the world of the unnoticed servant for a while. They chatted on about kinksters, events, who was doing what to whom. Wild laughter broke out several times, and I had to control my emotions and NOT be part of the conversation. At first this felt lonely, but after a few minutes an odd sense of relief came over me. Too often I feel like I'm trying hard to fit into a conversation, to say and do what is expected. But now I didn't have that burden. I could scan the table occasionally and fetch a drink or just stand there. It felt oddly like relief. I relaxed and my brain finally spun down a bit.

I was in this meditative state with much of the earlier jitters and fears behind me when it was time to go outside. Yes, I said outside. In my satin maid's uniform. Smoking is a big fetish of Mistress's guests, but she doesn't allow smoking in her house. We had discussed this ahead of time, so I knew it was coming. We adjourned to the carport where I was taught to present and light cigarettes. They smoked and talked for some time and I stood ready to do whatever needed to be done. I'll admit that I was pretty much just resigned to whatever might happen. Mistress had parked her SUV where it blocked view from the road, and the carport lights were out, so I was "safe." They smoked a couple of cigarettes before it was time for play. The three of them adjourned to the bedroom, and I began the process of cleaning up.

Changed into the working uniform again -- and annoyed at the heavy and now-loose collar -- I began to clean up the dining room and kitchen... and the bath room... and started laundry. Yes, Mistress gave me a list of chores to do.

It was odd to be cleaning her house while they were having a sexual free-for-all in the back room. I had told her that I wasn't into watching, so she had me working throughout the rest of the house. I had purchased a small bell that they could use to call me to service. In the middle of washing a batch of dishes, I heard the "ring!" They needed towels. In the middle of mopping: "ring!" Hot water. Wiping the table: "ring!" Fresh drinks. Oddly, I enjoyed being called and given instructions. I'm not sure, but I think that's part of a submissive's "pay." I rather enjoyed the feeling of being called by a bell, of being interrupted from duties by more duties. Mistress and her guests seemed to enjoy it no end, too. It was the second time in the evening when I felt at home as a servant.

I could hear them frolicking in the back room, and it felt odd to be there-but-not-there. I enjoyed it, but felt oddly like I was supposed to not enjoy it. It was that old definition of what a "man" is getting in the way. I let the feeling pass and focused on what I enjoyed and let myself feel good about the experience.

By the time I finished cleaning up, I was exhausted. My eyes were drooping, my shoulders sagged, and my whole body said it was time to go home. Part of this was recent physical activity catching up with me, but I realized later that it was also probably sub drop. Years of repressed fantasies had been let out along with all of the complex feelings that came along with them. I felt elated, relieved, tired, and ready to call it a night.

I finished the last of the chores, presented as instructed to Mistress, and she took me into the play room. She took off the collar, unlocked the chastity device, and asked me how I was doing. We talked a little bit about the evening. I had felt odd standing exposed in front of the kitchen window at night, unable to see out but being visible to anyone outside. I felt like things had gone pretty well overall and hoped she was pleased. She was. And she told me how much she appreciated my service, but also my stretching as much as I had.

I finished changing and left them to their play. I have no idea what will happen next, but I do feel like the fear that I had all wrapped up in that particular fantasy has had a lot of the pressure let out of it. Nothing horrible happened, and a lot of nice things did. The guests were delightful and respectful and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. If anything, the experience makes it much easier to see myself in that fantasized role in reality. Only next time I'll remember to bring the high heels.

Up until now, I've refused to dress at any public venue. It just doesn't feel right to share that with people who see it as nothing more than a cheap thrill. Many in "the community" don't accept that it's a valid form of sexual expression, the supposedly open minded closing their minds. But among trusted friends, it didn't feel weird. It felt understood and okay, even if it wasn't their favorite cup of tea. (Excuse the hyperbole.)

I'm grateful to Mistress and her guests for the opportunity to do that. I hope they had a good time, and I'm sure we'll see each other another time. In the mean time, I continue to explore and play with Mistress and we continue to learn and enjoy each other.

What an amazing thing trust is. And how lucky I am to have it.

QL