Bon Appetite! (Part 1)

A waiter at a dominatrix-owned restaurant is surprised and
delighted to find that his balls have become the special
of the day.

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Bon Appetite!


	It had been nearly four years since my Mistress,
whom I shall call S., had opened her restaurant. 
Located on the outskirts of a large city in the Midwest,
it was well-known among the many dominas in the
area, and had begun to attract an international
clientele.  Mistress S., who was a small, trim, auburn-
haired Italian woman in her early forties, had spent
nearly twenty years in Europe where she had become
both a gourmet chef and an exquisitely wicked
dominatrix.  Having inherited a beautiful piece of
wooded property, which included a fine three story, 15
room brick house, she had decided to move back to
America where she would start a business combining
her two great passions:  cooking and the domination of
men.  It was several weeks after she had begun the
renovation of the house when I answered her ad.

	I was an artist/carpenter in my early thirties, still
wondering what I was going to do next.  Having
worked a succession of jobs (including waiting tables),
and always having been consumed by fantasies
concerning dominant women, I was intrigued by the
ad which read :"WAITER, ASSISTANT TO CHEF,
in soon-to-be-opened gourmet restaurant.  Must be
willing to work for demanding female owner,
complete obedience expected and rewarded.  Respond
in writing with full length photo."  Within a few days
my letter was answered, and after a brief interview
during which I was ordered by Mistress S. to do
various menial tasks, she was satisfied with my
attitude and provisionally "hired" me.

	During the following weeks, I was trained
personally by Mistress S., not only in the kitchen skills
I would need to assist her, but in the art of serving her
as her fully submissive male slave.  On some levels,
this process was easy, as many years of fantasies were
being fulfilled;  however, I was subjected to intense
psychological and physical abuse to reach the point at
which Mistress was satisfied that my submission was
complete, and that I was worthy to add to her
household.  Thus, I became an unpaid (but not
unrewarded, nor unpunished) worker, doing carpentry
and working in the restaurant.

	For the next three or four years, her household
consisted of myself and two to four other male slaves,
with the occasional dominant female friend of
Mistress S. who might be an extended guest.  As
Mistress was a woman who enjoyed her luxuries, but
was not, to her regret, independently wealthy, she
worked (and worked her slaves) extremely hard.  The
restaurant, which was very expensive, stayed open six
days, for both lunch and dinner.  Set in beautiful
surroundings, it was completely private, and catered
only to dominant women who wished to enjoy fine
dining while indulging in various sado-masochistic
and fetish play.  From April to October, weather
permitting, the restaurant served its customers on a
large outdoor patio, overlooking a valley with a
stream.  Kinky wealthy women found Mistress S.'s
restaurant delightful, and word quickly spread
throughout that segment.  We were never lacking
customers.

	It was a mild, sunny June afternoon when my
life would change forever.  Mistress had assigned me
waiter duty, the most coveted assignment among her
slaves, since it involved interaction with the clientele,
and not merely kitchen labor.  Often, guests would
devise elaborate games and were allowed to use (and
abuse) us in any way, which could be very exciting
and satisfying.  If guests were not satisfied with our
performance, they were free to discipline us
themselves, or, inform Mistress S., whose wrath was
something to be avoided.

	As I was walking toward one of my tables to
check the settings and arrangements, I saw a black
Rolls-Royce pull into the parking area just outside the
garden wall which separated the dining patio from the
rest of the grounds.  It was not unusual for our
clientele to arrive in luxury cars, but even so a Rolls
attracted my attention.  A young white male in a
"uniform" that appeared to be part chauffeur's and part
bondage gear got out and opened the rear door. 
Emerging from the rear seat was a stunning black
woman who appeared to be considerably over six feet
tall, with piles of elaborate braids arranged on top of
her head.  Even from a distance I could see her full red
lips and white teeth in  her wide mouth, and was
aware of her extraordinary beauty.  Mesmerized at my
station, I watched her approach.  She was wearing a
tight satin-like shimmering gold skirt that came only
inches past her crotch, a black spaghetti strap top that
left her slightly rounded stomach (with a pierced navel
containing a large ruby) exposed, and open-toed heels. 
Her skin was nearly as dark as the black top, which
could barely contain her enormous breasts.  She was
wearing some of the most obviously valuable jewelry I
had seen, gold bracelets, rings and a necklace, with
diamonds and emeralds everywhere.
  
	As she came up to my table, I looked at her feet
(as we are trained to do), admiring her beautifully
manicured gold toenails. Standing in my waiter-slave
uniform (a collar, an apron just big enough to hold a
pencil and order pad, and nothing else), I softly asked
"Would mistress wish to be given a table?"
  
	"You may have permission to look at me," she
said, and I glanced up, transfixed by her deep,
authoritative voice.  "I would like a table, but I need to
relieve myself after a the ride here."

	Almost before she had finished speaking, I had
dropped to my knees in front of her, tilted my head
back and opened my mouth.  Raising her tiny skirt a
couple of inches, she began to pee, and I moved
forward and expertly caught her stream in my mouth,
and swallowed her warm, sweet urine.  Catching the
last few drops, and awaiting her instruction, I heard
her say "You may clean me off now", and I eagerly
licked the few drops that had clung to her thick tightly-
curled pubic hair.  Her scent was so intoxicating that I
was almost unable to keep myself from getting an
erection (a cardinal sin, unless ordered).

	"Show me to my table, slave, I'm famished," she
said in a low growl.  "I've heard your owner has some
unusual specialties, and I love exotic dishes."  She
gave me an evil grin, smiling broadly.  I noticed her
front teeth had gold inlays designed to mimic teeth that
had been filed to points.  She ran her long pink tongue
across her teeth while making a soft smacking sound,
and my cock started to throb into a half-erect state.  I
knew that she was watching its response, which made
it even more difficult to control.  

	As she took the menu from me with her right
hand, she simultaneously reached under my tiny
"apron" with her left and cupped my balls gently in her
long fingers.  For several moments she studied the
menu, all the time fondling my balls.  "I see your
Mistress's specialty is an appetizer of calf or lamb
testicles, which certainly sounds good.  But I'm in the
mood for something a little more exotic today.  Ask
your owner to come here, I have some questions about
the menu."

	I hustled into the kitchen where Mistress was
supervising the cooking.  When I told her that a
customer wanted to see her, she gave me a look that
meant certain and severe punishment if there was a
problem.  Following behind her as she walked briskly
to my table, I was hoping that I wouldn't be punished
by losing the chance to serve the most beautiful client I
had seen in months.  When we got to her table, our
guest ordered me to come to her chair, and again
cupped my balls in her hand.  "I have come a great
distance to enjoy your establishment Mistress S," she
began, "but I have some unusual tastes, and the means
to indulge them.  Would you be willing to put this
slave's balls on your menu for, say, ten thousand
dollars?"  She paused. "Apiece," she added, and gave
Mistress S a wicked smile.

	Although Mistress S was clearly taken aback,
only a second passed before the thought of twenty
thousand dollars spoke.  "Why of course,
Mademoiselle, I would be delighted to serve you this
slave's balls.  How would you like them prepared?"

	"Actually, Mistress S., I would like to have the
slave serve me his balls himself.  I've found it adds
immeasurably to the experience of eating a man's balls
to have the man watch as I savor them.  Also, I shall
want to castrate him myself.  Nothing compares to the
level of arousal or the orgasms I have when I perform
a castration.  I've castrated well over a hundred men,
and each time I am amazed by the intensity of the
feeling in my cunt.  I'd be happy to castrate him right
here, if you and your other customers would enjoy
watching,"  she purred.  She was lovingly kneading
my balls in her fingers, and I now had a full erection. 
"See," she continued, "he is aroused by the thought of
my taking his balls, aren't you my pet?"  She fixed me
with her eyes, while slowly licking her lips.

	"Yes Mistress," I stammered, "I am so honored
to be allowed to give my balls to you.  Please help me
make my castration one that will give you the greatest
pleasure you've ever had."  I could hardly believe what
I was saying, but I was in a state of total arousal, and
would have done anything to please her.  I had fallen
to my hands and knees, in a state of ecstasy, and was
sucking her beautiful toes.

	Mistress S's curiosity was obviously piqued. 
"When did you develop your, um, interest,
mademoiselle?" 

	"My family has owned a highly productive
diamond mine in Africa for nearly 80 years," she
began, "and when I was a girl my mother, from whom
I inherited my dominant personality, took over control
of the mines from my father, who was a weak and
ineffectual man, and who disappeared one day under
circumstances that are a mystery, but I suspect had to
do with my mother.  One day, when I was about 15,
and by then fully developed physically, my mother was
disciplining one of the mineworkers for attempting to
steal a few rough diamonds.  She had called me into
the room, and told me to watch.  'When a man takes
my jewels',  mother said, 'I take his!'

	"She turned, and taking a gleaming, jeweled
knife in her hand, bent down in front of the terrified
man who was tied to restraints on the wall.  She made
a short cutting movement with the knife, and the man's
balls fell into her hand.  She whistled for our dog, and
threw the balls to the floor where they were eagerly
lapped up in front of the castrated worker. Watching
this had caused my cunt to explode with the an orgasm
more intense than any I had ever experienced.  I had
found the "key", so to speak, to my erotic existence.  It
was virtually all I could think about.

(To be continued)