08 May 2015

Excerpt: Serving in Submission

And now for something completely different.

With Demon's Embrace wrapped up for revisions/editing, I thought I'd try my hand at something very different. What we have here is, for better or worse, yet another billionaire submission tale. Except it's got that Bryce Calderwood darkness to it. It's a little twisted.

I guess that's just how I write.

Since this is new territory for me and it's not so personal, I'm very interested in any feedback you have. I already know the demon story probably won't sell much, I'm writing that because that's what I want to read. This kind of story will probably appeal to a much wider readership than futanari demons, I'm sure.

“Cass, can you grab seventeen? Jen had to go home sick and we need it covered, like, now.”

Cassandra Miller tried to hide her reaction but Deb saw the face she made anyway.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you’ve been doing really well here since you started a couple weeks ago and an important customer is coming in, tonight. We can’t have the ball dropped on this one.” Deb put a conciliatory hand out to Cassie’s forearm and looked at her earnestly.

Cass sighed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she said, smiling back at Deb.

“I knew I could count on you,” Deb said, “This won’t be forgotten.” She made a kissy sound at Cass and moved on.

It had been a little over two weeks since Cass had started working at the Monte Christo Steakhouse, a high-end steakhouse established by the protege of a famous TV chef, who’s name Cass could never remember, but for some reason she knew it reminded her of an animal. It was a good change of pace for her. She’d waitressed before (she was your typical L.A. MAW: model/actress/whatever), and always found herself quickly promoted, simply because she was competent, hard-working, and good-looking.

It was always the good-looking part that got her into trouble. Inevitably, another female coworker would get jealous and snap, or she would suffer unwanted attention from some mouth-breathing loser or, worse yet, some “bro culture” fuckboy. The attention would become too much and she’d be forced to move on to preserve her own sanity. The only previous job she’d held for any length of time was under Dimitri, who ran a greasy spoon Greek joint, and the only reason she stayed there for so long was that Dimitri always knew exactly what he wanted and ruled the place with an iron hand clad in a velvet glove. Cass respected him for that. If there was one thing she despised, it was cowardly, weak-minded people in general, but she especially disliked weak-willed men. She found them utterly disgusting, and it seemed like she had to deal with more than her fair share of them, thanks to her looks. Guys would be attracted enough to her to make some kind of attempt with her, but they ultimately lacked the guts to really be the kind of strong man she dreamed about.

She went over to table seventeen, which was a large table in a private dining room, and began setting it up. Usually “important customer” meant some ugly asshole with a little bit of money who acted like it was a lot of money, or some guy who was spending money he didn’t even have yet, because he thought his screenplay deal was “for sure.” But if she could flatter them enough, play to their power fantasies, she could often go home with some fat tips, and that, folks, was the name of the game. As she set out the table, Deb floated back over her way and started looking at her work. This didn’t sit well with Cass.

“If you want me to take care of Mr. Important, then, why are you here checking on me like I don’t know what I’m doing?” she asked, barely keeping her irritation in check. Deb held up a steak knife to the light.

“This one has schmutz on it,” she said, “Replace it. Mr. Montgomery would be livid if anything’s not perfect.”

“Mr. Montgomery?”

“Yes, Kaden Montgomery.”

Cassie’s eyes widened, “Wait, you mean the billionaire?”

“That’s the one,” Deb said.

“No pressure,” Cass smiled thinly.

“You’ll be fine, Cass, just remember to pay attention to detail, but most importantly of all, you do whatever he wants.”

Cass nodded, “Okay, got it.”


Cass wasn’t there for when Kaden Montgomery was received and seated at table seventeen, deciding, rather wisely, she thought, that she should take a quick bathroom break to pee and check her appearance one last time before his reservation. So when she came out of the women’s room, he and his group were already seated and watered and drink orders taken. She approached the table of talking, laughing, well-dressed men and women.

“Good evening, my name is Cassie, and I’ll be your--”

When she caught sight of Kaden Montgomery, she totally faltered. Nobody had told her how good-looking he was! She’d seen a few blurry pictures in magazines and on the internet, but she’d never paid much attention to news about him, so she had no clear image of him in her mind already. He cut a sharp figure in a dark tailored jacket. At a time when nobody in L.A. wanted to wear ties, he not only wore one, but wore it properly knotted and tight against his throat, too, against a smooth field of a crisp white oxford. Kaden was one of those men who actually had a five o’clock shadow by five o’clock, and his hair was slightly mussed after what was probably a long day of running his fingers through it while he did whatever billionaires do--made money by the second and ruined people’s lives, probably.

But it was when he looked at her that her voice suddenly ceased to function. What she saw in his eyes could easily be mistaken for contempt, but what it was, she thought, was extreme competence and self-confidence combined with low expectations of others. Here was a man used to being disappointed by others, and she could understand that.

“Yes, Cassie, what is it you are going to be, this evening?” He smiled condescendingly at her and there were titters of laughter from his guests. Cassie looked around quickly at the others at the table and back to Kaden Montgomery.

“Your server. Tonight’s specials are--”

“My server?”

What the fuck was this guy playing at?

“Yes,” she said, trying not to sound irritated. No duh, what the hell did she look like, a random homeless bum, or something?

“What would serve me would be that you don’t go by that ridiculously frivolous nickname. Tonight, you are not Cassie, you are Cassandra, which is a beautiful name, befitting a beautiful woman, wouldn’t you agree?” Well, there was no way she could disagree.

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected.


“Yes, sir,” she said, a smile creeping onto her face.

“Do you find respect and manners to be funny, Cassandra? Shall I have someone else here serve me? Perhaps permanently take my business elsewhere?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Now, Cassandra, if you want to serve me well, you’re going to take our order, and we don’t care about what your specials are or even what’s on the menu. Are we clear?”

“Crystal, sir.”

That made him smile, and his smile, combined with the brusque manner in which he treated her, did something to her. Something inside her heated up, a little, and she found herself feeling a little nervous for reasons unrelated to job performance. She took their orders, a mish-mash of items that bore little resemblance to anything on the menu save for the cuts of meat, and steak was steak. She had a brief but intense conversation with the caller, urging him to ensure every plate was perfect, then she did rounds at the other tables to which she was assigned.

When she returned to table seventeen to check on them, the look in Kaden’s gorgeous eyes told her something was very amiss. She decided being direct was the best option, so she walked up to him and said, “Is something wrong, sir?”

He crossed his arms and looked at her like he couldn’t believe what she just said.

“I thought you said were going to be my server?” Snickers from his guests at this.

“Yes, sir, and?” Adding and? to a statement, she had found, was a great way to let assholes dig their own graves. She realized such tactics would not work with him, judging by the way his expression changed from mild amusement to more serious appraisal.

“Cassandra, are you giving me... attitude?”

“No, sir, I just--” she stammered.

“You were just attempting to put me in my place, weren’t you?”

He had her on that one.

“Weren’t you?” he repeated.

“Yes, sir,” she admitted.

“I thought so. You know how I know? Because that’s what I do. Look at me, Cassandra. What is my place, here? Where am I sitting?”

“At the head of the table, sir.” He smiled.

“Very good. Now, you said you were my server, and yet you left me unattended and gave your attention to other people.” Did he not know how waitressing worked?

“Yes, sir, that’s how it usually works,” she said. But he shook his head.

“No, not tonight. Here’s how it works for you tonight, Cassandra. You are mine, and only mine tonight. And unless you are specifically doing something for me, you are to remain here at my side, are we clear?”

What the...

“Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” she stammered, “I need to clear this with my supervisor, first.”

“You do that,” he said crisply.


“He said what?” said Deb, raising her voice more than usual, which was something, because Deb was one of those people who prided herself on keeping her cool.

“I’m sorry, but that’s what he said, I don’t know what to do, Deb!” Cass pleaded with her. She sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose with her eyes closed.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said.

Cass followed Deb back to table seventeen. She didn’t realize it, but she was holding her breath.

“Excuse me, Mr. Montgomery?”

When he looked at her, she continued, “I’m afraid I can’t allow Cassie here to only serve your table. We can be very lenient when it comes to people like you, but this is where we have to draw th--”

“That’s fine, I’ll arrange for your replacement to allow it. Perhaps I’ll arrange to have Cassandra here to take your position, or simply have the owner hire someone new, or perhaps I’ll just buy the restaurant and then sell it and fire all of you.”

Deb grew pale, and could only stand there, dumbfounded.

“Is that what you would like?”

“No,” she said in a small voice.

“No, sir,” he corrected, “Jesus Christ, is everyone on this planet a fucking animal, nowadays?” He held his hands out like he just couldn’t believe what was happening.

“No, sir,” Deb said, looking down. Cass looked around and Kaden’s dinner companions all wore predatory smiles. They knew the scent of blood.

“Yes, you are,” Kaden said to Deb, “You know what you are? A pig. You’re a piggy.”

Cass was mortified for Deb, but at the same time, a deeper, more primal part of her enjoyed seeing her supervisor get dressed down like this. Got off on it. Deb’s eyes were quivering. Cass was torn between feeling sorry for her and wanting to see just how far Kaden would take it.

“Why don’t you get down on all fours and crawl around for us, piggy?”

Oh, my God.

Deb’s lip quivered. She started to bend down, changed her mind, then relented and got down on her hands and knees, sniffing loudly. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Crawl around, piggy.” Kaden made a circular motion with his finger.

Cassie’s heart pounded in her chest.

Deb didn’t move, she was on her hands and knees, but she was crying softly and not moving at all.

“Piggy better start crawling if it wants to come back to a job tomorrow.”

Deb began crawling in a circle, her round ass sticking out and wiggling. She sniffed and tried to suppress her crying.

“Snort, piggy!” Kaden leaned back in his chair, holding up his wine glass, with a look on his face that made Cass wonder if he would look at her like that in bed. She stirred below, between her legs.

Yeah, like that would ever happen.

Deb stopped crawling and had put her face down to the floor, crying.

“Why is the piggy not snorting?”


Kaden set his wine glass down carefully and leaned forward in his chair. He put his hands together into a steeple but pointed downward in Deb’s direction. He appeared to be gathering his thoughts.

“Why didn’t you think of that before you shot your piggy mouth off to me? Before you presumed anything with me? Is that my fault? How is that my problem?” Against his barrage of questions Deb could only continue crying. Cass had seen enough.

“Sir?” she said clearly and calmly. Kaden looked at her in an appraising way, sitting back up.

“Cassandra, my server, what is it?”

“Your dishes will all be ready soon, and I’ll need Deb’s help with them.” Kaden narrowed his eyes at her and her heart raced. He looked down to Deb and back to her again. He tapped his lips with his steepled fingers.

“Very well.”

Feeling the weight of his gaze, she bent down and put a hand around Deb’s upper arm and lifted her up. Deb allowed herself to be led from the private dining room. But when they’d gotten out of earshot of the dining room, Deb savagely shoved Cass away from her, slamming her into the wall.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” Deb hissed at her like an old cat, and walked away, now openly weeping.

And, yes, it gets even more fucked up from there. Cassandra is in for an extremely interesting night. It hasn't even really begun, yet. What do you guys think? Is this worth anyone's money? Let me know your thoughts.

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  1. Oh boy! I'm already entertained, haha! I never fully read 50 Shades of Shit (because it was awfully written, I mean *awfully!*) but this is a billionaire erotica I want to read!! Please post more!

    1. That's great to hear, thanks so much. There is more to come and I can take this story to some pretty unbelievable places by the time things really get rolling in it (trying to draw out the tension before their first real encounter with each other).