Submissive Exhibitionist For Hire

The first time Sally walks past the Coffee Shop, she thought she was seeing things. Surely people don't do those sort of perverse things outside of their bedrooms? She's not the only one watching. There are strangers around her, lingering outside of the shop looking inwards at a young woman with her legs spread open, a man between them, thrusting wildly. There’s another woman wearing nothing except for a pair of scandalous red high heels as she serves coffee to the patrons, bending over and giving them all the perfect view of her-

Sally flushes and looks away, embarrassed for the salacious people inside.

To her horror, a man walks out and hands her an application form for a position in said café.

She closes her eyes and imagines being one of the women in the cafe, used by paying patrons, stripped and touched in every way imaginable, and then expected to put her uniform back on and do her job; serve coffee with heat growing between her legs and arousal in every pore of her body.

She fills in the form.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

“Is that okay?” he asks. “You are free to say no.”

She swallows the lump in her throat and nods. “That would be fine, thank you,” she says.

He flashes his teeth at her. “So polite,” he says, looking incredibly pleased. “Tell me, what did you do before this?”

She blinks her wide-eyes at him and tilts her head a little because she doesn't really understand the question, but wants to answer him anyways. “Um… I volunteered at the dog shelter during summer holidays and I worked at the library in school,” she murmurs, a little confused about why he is asking for her job experience. “I graduated a year ago and haven't really had much luck getting hired anywhere else yet,” she adds when he continues looking at her with curious eyes, not saying anything. “So I guess… I was at school before this?”

He chuckles. “Archie's got himself a fresh new bird,” he still has that look of immense amusement and she blushes, certain that she hasn't answered him the way he wanted, but he is kind enough not to call her out on it.

She doesn't know if that's a compliment or an insult, so she just plasters a smile on her face.

“Alright then,” he says. “Would you give me a show today. Call it a preview,” he hums.

“A preview?” she swallows the lump in her throat and casts a furtive glance at the guys behind him.

“Not with them,” he chuckles. “I want you to finger yourself.”

“Finger myself?” she feels a little bit like a broken record, only capable of echoing everything he had just said. Thankfully, he continues to look more amused than annoyed by her inability to process instructions without first repeating them to herself.

“Perhaps you would work better with instructions,” he offers.

She nods eagerly, knowing that it would be much better to have someone tell her what to do. She feels like an unskilled swimmer who has just been thrown into a vast ocean and told to dive for pearls.

“Lean back,” he instructs.