Brunch with Benefits

Author's note: Hey there! I hope you're having a wonderful day! Just a quick interruption in your scheduled reading to inform you that I've created a Discord server around hypnosis, mind control and transformations, with a focus on concept stories. I'll also keep everyone updated about my upcoming stories (big novel underway) there. Feel free to join!

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The restaurant, Le Petit Château, exuded exclusivity. A relic of the 1920s, the place had hosted movie stars and presidents. Had I not been so used to my father dragging me along to luxury brunches with potential clients, I might have felt intimidated. But as the valet whisked away my father's car, I followed him inside without a second thought. The maître d' greeted my old man by name, leading us through the elegant dining room filled with well-dressed patrons and the soft clink of expensive silverware.

Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm, intimate glow over white tablecloths and fresh flowers. The wait staff, clad in crisp black and white uniforms, moved quietly and efficiently, balancing trays of delicacies that smelled divine. A pianist played something classical and unobtrusive in the corner. As one would expect from a restaurant of this caliber, the large, airy room was packed with the city's elite: celebrities, politicians, and business moguls mingled, trading stories and connections over mimosas and crab cakes.

The Harringtons had yet to arrive and my father sighed in relief, happy to have at least been able to arrive before them. We were seated at a prime table near the window overlooking the garden. Dad took the head position naturally, with Veronica to his right. Cassandra and I sat across from each other, her eyes occasionally meeting mine with that new unsettling, overly supportive gleam. I tried not to squirm under her gaze.

"I recommend the eggs Benedict," My father said, not looking up from his menu. "They use a locally sourced hollandaise that's simply sublime."

I almost snorted. I was willing to bet he was just repeating something he overheard somewhere else. My father was a man of simple tastes, preferring steak and potatoes to haute cuisine. He tried so hard to project this image of sophistication, but it always felt a little ****, like a costume too tight in the shoulders he was now wearing constantly.

A waitress approached—petite, elegant, perhaps in her early thirties. Her skin was a warm golden tan and her black uniform hugged her figure professionally, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun. I felt myself straighten up a little at her sight, her beauty of a classic, timeless variety. Her face had a cute, friendly roundness to it, while her body was all curves. Not as voluptuous as Zoe, but a woman with a clear, mature appeal.

"Good morning, I'm Claudia, I'll be taking care of you today," She said with practiced charm, her voice warm and smooth. "Can I start you off with some mimosas or coffee?" She looked at us one by one, making eye contact, her professional smile wavering slightly as she met my gaze. I blushed, but not because of what I knew she had just realized. Something about her made me feel like a teenager again.

Veronica adjusted her napkin on her lap, her wedding ring catching the light. "I'd love a mimosa," she said with a smile, her perfect white teeth on display.

Cassandra shook her head as the waitress turned to her. "Just coffee for me, black. Some of us have actual work to do after this." She didn't even try to hide her condescension toward her mother's lifestyle of leisure.

"Coffee for me too," my father added, still absorbed in the menu.

"Alright, sir." Claudia nodded, jotting down their orders. "And for you, sir?" She asked me, putting a slight emphasis on the word 'sir' that wasn't present when she'd used it for my dad.

I gulped at her intense stare, my heart racing as I contemplated the unthinkable. "I'll have a beer, and a bit of everything on the menu, on you," I told her, hands shaking a bit. "And when you come back... have your big tits out for everyone to see."

She stared at me for a moment that felt like eternity as my heart hammered in my chest, blinking rapidly, her professional demeanor momentarily cracking. "Yes, sir," she finally replied, her voice an octave higher than before. "I'll bring your order right away. Would you like anything else with that?"

My father groaned, clearly irritated by my antics. "Oliver, really?"

"It's fine!" Cassandra chimed in, her tone bright and supportive. "I think it's refreshing. Why pretend? It's just how things are now."

Dad shot her a confused look, then sighed and rubbed his temple. "I would have preferred you wait for the Harringtons to arrive before getting any food, but it is what it is."

The waitress cleared her throat, regaining her composure. She looked around to make sure we were done ordering for now and began to turn away, but not before shooting me another quick glance, her cheeks flushed red. As she walked away, a middle-aged couple at a nearby table whispered to each other. The woman occasionally looking my way with mild curiosity, while her husband continued eating his meal, unbothered.

My father leaned forward, his voice dropping to that conspiratorial tone he used when discussing business. Here came the briefing he always gave us before these meetings. "The Harringtons are looking to diversify their holdings," he explained, tapping his finger on the table for emphasis. "Their pharmaceutical division needs new manufacturing equipment, and Moore Industrial Solutions is perfectly positioned to provide it." I didn't even know why he was telling us this. He wasn't going to let us participate in any substantive way in the discussions. We were just there to look pretty and fill seats.

I nodded absently, my attention drifting to a brunette at a nearby table who kept stealing glances at me. She was with what appeared to be her husband, but her eyes kept finding mine, her expression a mixture of curiosity and availability. I wondered what would happen if I walked over there and told her to bend over the table. Would her husband object? Would anyone? Obviously not. Not in this weird reality.

"Oliver, are you listening?" My father's sharp voice cut through my fantasy.

"Yeah, of course," I lied, dragging my attention back to the table. "Pharmaceuticals. Equipment. Got it."

He gave me a skeptical look, then continued. "There's a chance Mr. Harringtons, will bring up golf. I've hinted at playing, so if he does, go along with it."

I nodded with a slight eye roll. As he droned on about profit margins and market positioning, I found my gaze wandering again. A young woman at the bar caught my eye—early twenties, redhead, wearing a dress that hugged her curves. What if I ordered her to come sit on my lap? Or had her and Claudia make out for me? No one had batted an eye at my request that our waitress perform the rest of her service topless. Why was I even holding back?

My father's posture suddenly stiffened, his eyes fixed on the entrance. "They're here," he whispered, rising to his feet with a practiced smile.

The Harringtons moved through the restaurant like royalty. Following the maître d' who seemed to practically bow before them. No doubt they were regulars here. My father had not chosen this place at random. Harold Harrington was in his sixties, tall and lean with silver hair and the confident stride of a man who had never worried about money a day in his life. His wife, Eleanor, was perhaps twenty years his junior, elegant in a tailored Chanel suit, her silver-streaked dark hair pulled back in a sophisticated chignon.

"Richard, darling," Eleanor said as they approached, air-kissing my father on both cheeks. Her accent carried the faintest traces of old Boston money, her consonants crisp and her vowels slightly elongated. "So lovely to see you again."

"Eleanor, Harold," my father replied, his **** enunciation more pronounced than ever. "Thank you for joining us. You remember my wife, Veronica."

Veronica stood, offering her own air kisses. "Eleanor, that suit is divine."

"This old thing?" Eleanor laughed lightly, "Harold insisted I wear it. He says the color brings out my eyes."

Harold nodded politely to Veronica before turning his attention to my father. "Richard, good to see you. Charles speaks highly of your operation."

My father's smile tightened slightly at the mention of Charles Winthrop, a mutual acquaintance who had apparently facilitated this meeting. I'd met the guy a couple times before. "Charles is too kind. Please, sit."

Eleanor stopped as she noticed me. "Ah! This is my son, Oliver," my father interjected, gesturing toward me.

"Oh my goodness, the young man who has all the women in a tizzy!" Eleanor giggled, extending her hand to me. I stood and shook it gently, not quite sure how to respond. "This is an unexpected surprise!" If she meant it, her voice didn't betray it. It seemed as surprising to her as the sun rising in the east. This was getting old.

Her husband stepped forward, offering his hand as well. "Harold Harrington," he said gruffly. "So you're the one to blame for my wife's sudden... reservations?"

"That would be me," I replied, shaking his hand.

As introductions continued around the table, I couldn't help but notice the subtle dynamics at play. The Harringtons were polite but reserved, their smiles not quite reaching their eyes. They carried themselves with the easy confidence of people who were doing someone a favor rather than considering a business opportunity. My father, meanwhile, was trying too hard—laughing too loudly at Harold's mild jokes, agreeing too enthusiastically with Eleanor's observations about the restaurant's decor.

The deal wasn't going to happen. I could see it as clearly as I could see Claudia's perfect breasts bounce as she approached our table again. I gulped at the sight of her, my cock stirring in my pants. This was really happening...

She was completely topless, her large, perfect breasts swaying slightly with each step. Her skin was smooth and pale, her nipples a dusky pink that contrasted beautifully with her dark hair and uniform pants. Despite her state of undress, she carried herself with professional poise, balancing our drinks on a tray as she approached. I couldn't keep my eyes off her, my mouth drying at the sight. She looked a little flushed, but she was still doing her job.

The restaurant had gone momentarily quiet, heads turning to watch her progress across the dining room. But it wasn't the shocked silence I might have expected. Instead, there were a few murmurs of surprise, some appreciative glances, and then—as people's eyes tracked from Claudia to our table—a wave of recognition seemed to spread through the room.

Women's faces shifted from confusion to understanding, many of them straightening in their seats as they realized who I was. Men's delayed reactions varied—some ended up nodding respectfully in my direction, others looked slightly annoyed but resigned. The Harringtons seemed to find it to be in bad taste, frowning, but apparently nothing they could not overlook.

Claudia reached our table and began distributing drinks with practiced efficiency, despite being half-naked. "Your mimosa, ma'am," she said to Veronica, placing the flute in front of her. "Black coffee for you, miss," to Cassandra. "And for you, sir," she said to my father, setting down his coffee.

She turned to me last, her cheeks slightly flushed but her voice steady. "Your beer, sir," she said. "The kitchen is preparing your 'bit of everything' as we speak. It should be ready shortly."

"I'm sorry about that," Dad apologized to Harold and Eleanor, gesturing at our waitress. "I guess my son's new... status... is making him a little bold."

Eleanor waved a hand dismissively, her perfectly manicured nails flashing in the light. "Well, you know how young men are. Always testing boundaries." She leaned forward, her own breasts threatening to spill out of her dress, clearly on purpose. "He's free to test mines as well. Though maybe there aren't as many boundaries now, hmm?"

I chuckled, taking a sip of my beer. I put it down, frowning at my father. Didn't he get it? This wasn't going to work. His deal was dead. Unless... Yeah, I had the key to success. It was obvious, but apparently just to me.

"Are we ready to order?" Claudia asked, her professional demeanor firmly back in place despite her state of undress.

My father nodded, gesturing for the Harringtons to go first. Harold ordered eggs Florentine, Eleanor opted for a quiche, and my father went for his usual eggs Benedict. Cassandra asked for French toast, and Veronica chose a fruit plate, as usual.

Claudia nodded, jotting down our orders efficiently. "Will there be anything else?"

I turned to the waitress, unable to look her in the eye with her perfect tits staring at me, a new boldness coursing through me. Jesus, I thought, I could just grab them right now and no one would stop me. I was squirming in my seat, trying to hide the bulge growing in my pants. "I might suck on your tits for dessert later," I said casually. "But for now, could you bring me the highest-ranking woman in this restaurant's... hierarchy?" I couldn't believe I was about to do this. It wasn't right, it was clearly another tantrum. But goddammit, I felt the need to push the envelope, to test what I could get away with, to show my dad, the Harringtons, to show them all...

Claudia didn't even blink. "That would be Mrs. Beaumont, sir. She's here today for the quarterly review meeting with the executive chef. I'll fetch her right away."

"Thank you, Claudia," I said, watching her breasts sway as she turned and walked away.

Cassandra nudged my leg under the table, her smile warm and supportive. "What's your plan?" she whispered, her voice tinged with genuine interest. I gestured for her to stay quiet and just watch.

"So, Eleanor?" I turned to Mrs. Harrington, "Who's wearing the pants in this marriage, if you'll allow me the expression?" I asked with a cheeky smile.

Harold and my father both shifted in their seats, looking mildly uncomfortable at my sudden change in tone, but I didn't care. Eleanor, on the other hand, laughed—a high, tinkling sound that matched her sophisticated persona. "In our partnership? We each have our domains," she answered diplomatically.

Harold nodded, taking a sip of his drink. "My wife and I are pretty evenly matched, but I'm sure you've heard the saying about who holds the purse strings. I take care of the business, if that's your question, Oliver," he said, clearly trying to establish his dominance. The hidden subtext was pretty clear: 'You may own my wife, but I own the business your father is so desperately trying to get a hold of.'

I nodded with a smirk. Suddenly, the restaurant's atmosphere seemed to shift subtly as a striking woman in her forties approached our table. She moved with the confidence of someone accustomed to authority, her tailored burgundy suit complementing her olive skin. Her dark hair styled in an elegant bob, and her eyes—sharp and assessing—immediately finding mine.

"I understand you wished to meet me," she said, extending her hand. "Jeanne Beaumont, owner of this establishment. I see you've already made yourself... comfortable with my staff." She glanced at Claudia, busy serving another table in her half-naked state, before returning her attention to me. "What can I do for you, sir?"

"The owner, huh?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I'm YOUR owner, Oliver Moore, Nice to meet you. Get on your knees."

Jeanne Beaumont froze for a moment, her professional demeanor wavering only briefly before she gracefully dropped to her knees beside our table. The restaurant continued functioning around me—servers delivering food, patrons eating their meals—with only a few curious glances toward the kneeling restaurant owner.

"Of course," she sighed, her voice steady despite her position. "What can I do for you?"

My father was now clearly trying to hide his annoyance, and Harold was looking more and more uncomfortable. I had the right to do what I wanted to her, of course, but I was still being a bit of an asshole. Women were my toys, like Marcus had said, but now I was the kid at the table upsetting the adults, not the polite little boy my father was trying to present me as.

"Could we go back to talking about the contract?" Dad tried, his voice strained.

"I'm sure Oliver's got a good reason for his request," Cassandra chimed in, her tone bright and supportive. She was starting to get on my nerves, even if I was the one responsible for her behavior.

"Cass..." I muttered under my breath, giving her a sharp look. "I think you should go find the ugliest guy in this room and offer to blow him," I said to her, rolling my eyes. "If he says yes, you do it and come back once you're done. If he says no, keep looking for the second ugliest guy, and so on. Got it?"

She opened her mouth, her expression unreadable. "Sure! You're right! That's a great idea!" she said after a moment, her eyes sparkling. "I'll be right back!" With that, Cassandra got up and sauntered away from our table, scanning the room for potential targets. My father was now utterly mortified, his face a deep red as he watched her leave, his perfect family presentation utterly shattered.

Mrs. Beaumont remained still and quiet, her eyes downcast, as if she were used to just being ordered to her knees. Her posture was impeccable, her hands resting on her thighs. I leaned forward and grabbed her chin gently, lifting her head to look at her face.

"I'll need you to do whatever you need to do to transfer this restaurant to me," I told her. "You own it. I own you. It's only logical that this would be my restaurant from now on."

She blinked once, her eyes darting between mine. "I'm not sure if it's that simple, sir. There are legalities, paperwork—"

I shook my head. "I'm sure someone with your... expertise will find a way to do it."

She did seem genuinely bothered by this, but not in the way I expected. "I won't deny that you have the right to do this, of course, and that you could even order me to give it to you..."

"I do. Give it to me," I ordered.

"Of course," she said softly a tiny ping of disappointment in her voice, as if losing her life's work was not something she was particularly happy about, but had to accept, of course. "That's not an issue. The paperwork will be ready in the morning if you don't mind giving me the night."

"Sure. And I'll even let you keep running it," I said, feeling generous. "I know fuck all about restaurants. But from now on, the profits come to me. Understood?"

Mrs. Beaumont nodded. "Yes, sir."

My father, now seemingly giving up on signing his own deal with Harold, groaned. "Well good for you, Oliver," he said with a hint of sarcasm. "You've got a restaurant now. I hope you're proud of yourself."

Harold seemed to share his sentiment, leaning back in his chair, his eyes narrowed as he looked at me, his mouth a tight line of disapproval. I guess from their perspective I was cheating. They had to build and maintain their own fortune while I just had to say 'jump' and women did. Even Veronica, who so far had been mostly quiet, was now looking at me with an air of disdain, her eyes flicking between me and Mrs. Beaumont. She too had worked for her position, even if it had meant mostly being arm candy.

I shrugged, feeling a little smug. And, after all, I wasn't going to leave my father empty handed, but it was fun watching him squirm for once.

I gestured for Mrs. Beaumont to stand up and leave us alone, and turned my attention back to the Harringtons. "Alright," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Harold, what would convince you to sign a contract with my father?"

He seemed taken aback by my directness. "It's not that simple, Oliver," he replied, his voice measured. "This is a business deal, not a handshake agreement. There are processes, negotiations, contracts—"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "I imagine you'd like to be allowed to fuck your wife again, yes?"

His eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "Excuse me?"

My father tensed, clearly anticipating a scene.

I leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Let's cut the bullshit, Harold. I own every woman on Earth, including Eleanor here." I gestured toward his wife, who shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "And I'm sure you'd appreciate a return to normalcy in your marriage, hmm? Maybe even some extra fun. I can command her to fulfill your every fantasy. So here's the deal: You sign that contract with my father and you get to fuck your wife again," I said with a grin. "Seems fair to me."

My father was staring at me, his mouth slightly agape, his carefully constructed facade of sophistication crumbling before my eyes. Eleanor seemed to be anxiously waiting for her husband's response. Veronica was watching, her face unreadable, her glass halfway to her lips. Now that I looked around, Cassandra was nowhere to be seen.

Harold sputtered, his face turning an angry shade of red. However, the sight of his beautiful wife next to him seemed to give him pause. "Well..." he started, his eyes flicking between me and her. He took a deep breath, his expression shifting from anger to calculation. His lips slowly stretching into a sly grin. "You've got a point, boy. That's a fair trade."

I smiled broadly, feeling victorious as the man extended his hand above the table in my father's direction. Dad, still reeling from the exchange, mechanically took the handshake.

"Richard," Harold said, his voice now smooth as silk, "You've got yourself a deal. I'll have our people draw up the papers by tomorrow," he said.

My father nodded, his face pale. "Thank you, Harold. I'm glad we could reach an agreement." He looked at me, his expression a mix of gratitude and shock. I gave him a cheeky smile in return.

Harold turned to me, his expression more respectful now. "And if we could talk about the terms of my wife's services..."

I laughed. "Eleanor, from now on, satisfy your husband's sexual desires as best you can," I commanded her, "anything as long as it doesn't put you in danger. Oh, and be horny for him whenever he's horny for you. No point having you do it if you don't enjoy it."

She nodded, her face lighting up, arousal already starting to show in her posture, mirroring the growing lust in her husband's eyes. "Of course," she purred.

With a wink, I added, "And now, let's celebrate. I own all of this restaurant. Let's get a round of champagne on me," I said, standing up. I grabbed Veronica's empty flute of mimosa and a spoon and made my way to the center of the restaurant.

"Excuse me, everyone," I announced, tapping the spoon against the glass to get their attention. The room gradually fell silent, all eyes turning to me. I couldn't help but notice Cassandra under a table, giving a blowjob to an older, overweight gentleman. She waved at me happily with one hand. "I have an announcement to make," I continued. "As the owner of all women," I paused, enjoying how casually the phrase rolled off my tongue, "I've decided I also own this restaurant now. The change will come with a few rules for all women in the... premises: From now on any attractive woman in this restaurant, staff or client, will have to be completely naked." I announced. "If you're not sure about whether or not you're attractive… Well, you're probably not."

There was a brief moment of silence as my words sank in. Then, a ripple of activity spread through the restaurant as my announcement rang out. Several women—both patrons and staff—immediately began removing their clothing without much protest or embarrassment. A businesswoman at a nearby table unbuttoned her blouse while continuing her conversation about quarterly reports. Two college-aged girls in fancy dresses giggled as they helped each other out of their dresses. The cute sommelier calmly set down her wine bottle before removing her uniform. Men watched, amused or indifferent, as the women around them stripped down to nothing.

I snapped my fingers, pointing at Claudia, our waitress, busy getting rid of her pants, the only remaining piece of her clothing. "Could we have some champagne, please?" I asked her with a smile. "For the table."

Claudia nodded, her breasts bouncing as she moved away to fulfill my request, clumsily stepping out of her pants on the way. I returned to our table, sitting back down with a satisfied grin. Veronica and Eleanor, now fully nude, sat there awkwardly, their hands in their laps.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm feeling like celebrating," I said, looking around the table. My father was still speechless, his eyes darting between the two naked wives and the increasingly nude staff.

Cassandra returned to the table, her clothes seemingly discarded somewhere else. She wiped her mouth and sat down, smiling brightly. "Mission accomplished," she announced, nodding toward the large man at the bar who was now drinking whiskey with a dazed expression. "He was quite surprised but definitely didn't say no."

Harold seemed to be in a much better mood than my father, his hand already on his wife's thigh. The rest of the restaurant continued around us, the chatter and laughter returning as the shock wore off. Claudia, now completely naked, approached our table with a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.

"Here we are," she said, setting down the bucket. She expertly opened the bottle, the cork popping loudly. She poured a glass for each of us, her breasts swaying with each movement. "Enjoy," she said, setting the bottle on the table. She seemed flustered, a strange contrast from the casual demeanor of the other naked women who seemed nothing more than slightly uncomfortable.

"Tell you, what Claudia," I said, my eyes lingering on her breasts. "How about you lay on the table and get yourself wet for me?"

"I'm not sure..." she started, clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion, but her body was already reacting: her legs shifted slightly, her breathing quickened. "But if that's what you want..."

"It is what I want," I said firmly.

"It's a great idea!" Cassandra chimed in enthusiastically.

"Okay then, if that's your wish," she replied. She climbed onto the table, sending silverware clattering to the floor, her breasts jiggling as she moved. Her pussy was now inches from my face, her hairless mound and pink folds on full display.

"Oliver," my father interrupted, his voice tense. "Can't you do this somewhere else? It's not going to be very convenient to eat with her there."

I shrugged. "Just... I dunno, move her around. I just want to enjoy myself a bit."

My father hesitated for a moment, then sighed. He stood up and grabbed Claudia by her thighs, maneuvering her to the side of the table to make room for the upcoming food, her legs dangling off the edge, her ass now the closest thing to me. She gasped, but made no move to resist, her expression stoic. I chuckled, admiring the view as she started to finger herself.

"Be very turned on. No need for modesty. Forget all about manners and decency. But… don't cum until I tell you you can."

Her face lit up, the discomfort quickly disappearing. "Oh, thank you!" She exclaimed, her fingers moving faster between her legs. She moaned loudly, her hips bucking as she arched her back, her breasts heaving. She no longer seemed to care about the spectacle she was making, her moans echoing throughout the restaurant. Well, no one seemed to mind, or rather they looked like how people usually look when trying to ignore an innocuous but annoying sound in public. She could have been a toddler crying or someone who wouldn't stop coughing and everyone would have paid the same amount of attention to it. I smiled, enjoying the show, hard not to when she was rubbing her clit right in front of me. The smell of her arousal was heavy in the air, her juices dripping onto the tablecloth.

"Well, don't mind me while I fuck this beautiful lady," I laughed as I looked at the three women sitting around the table, lowering my pants and boxers, my erection springing free. The effect of my unintended command was instantaneous, Veronica and Cassandra suddenly acting totally disinterested in whatever I was doing. Dad, on the other hand, seemed bothered and uncomfortable, not that I really cared. Harold and his wife seemed... busy...

Claudia moaned loudly as my tip slid against her wet entrance, her back arching on the table, sending a salt shaker tumbling to the floor. Her eyes were glazed with commanded arousal, her breathing heavy. "Please," she begged, her hips lifting to meet me. "Fuck me..."

Around me, the restaurant continued functioning with surreal normalcy. A naked hostess seated new customers, looking around in confusion until she seemingly explained to them what was going on, and they relaxed. A businessman at a nearby table glanced over with mild curiosity before returning to his newspaper. Two elderly women at a corner table discussed their grandchildren, occasionally glancing my way with polite interest. Some people were leaving, though. I could see a man complaining at the hostess like one would complain about a weird smell or a broken toilet: frowning, slightly disgusted, but otherwise polite.

"Please..." Claudia whimpered, her legs wrapping around me, trying to pull me closer. I obliged, pushing inside her, her pussy welcoming me greedily. I felt dizzy, her walls clenching around my length, her body shaking with need. I didn't remember ever being this horny, this **** for sex, and from the looks of it, neither did she. Her moans were now almost screams, her voice carrying across the restaurant. She didn't care, and I didn't care. I was fucking her, in public, in a restaurant full of people, and nobody cared. Well, no woman cared. They all looked ready to join if I asked. Most men seemed to mind, though, in the 'I don't agree with this' kind of way. I guess I was still being an asshole.

"I'll... I have another appointment coming up," Dad said, standing up. "Honey? We should go."

Veronica looked up, confused. "What do you mean? Our food hasn't even arrived yet."

He gestured toward me, frustration on his face. Veronica, still bound by my command, showed no reaction at the sight of her naked stepson having sex on the table. She shook her head with a raised eyebrow, clearly not seeing what the issue was. My father sighed, defeated. "Girls, we're going!" He barked, and the two women stood up, a bit confused, but following his lead nonetheless. "Harold, Eleanor, it was a pleasure, as always," he added.

Harold, who had been so busy masturbating his wife under the table that he had almost missed the entire exchange, snapped to attention, nodding politely at my father. "Same for us," he said, a broad grin on his face.

"It was... a pleasure..." his wife managed to blurt out. It seemed that by ordering her to be available to Harold in any way he liked, I had somewhat extended my immunity to modesty, decency and manners to him too. No one had come to tell them to stop, and no one seemed to care. They too were getting annoyed glances here and there, but that was about it.

I focused on my own pleasure, slamming into Claudia with wild abandon. She was moaning, screaming, her fingers digging into the tablecloth. I had never seen a woman so turned on in my life. Melissa had never even been a tenth as enthusiastic, though maybe she wasn't the best example. Previous sexual partners had been more into it, but still nowhere near this level of pure, unbridled and uncontained lust.

My balls slapped against her ass as I fucked her, her body shaking with each thrust. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed throughout the restaurant, mixed with the sounds of cutlery and casual conversation. I glanced around; no one seemed to care. It was surreal, fucking in public, but no one gave a damn. I would have never dared to do this in a million years before yesterday. Now, it felt liberating, exhilarating even. My thrusts became erratic, my orgasm building rapidly. I wanted to prolong the pleasure, but Claudia's pussy felt too good. "When... I cum... you cum... and only then," I managed to say in a breath.

"Yes! Please!" she cried out, her body writhing beneath me. I couldn't hold back any longer, the sight of her tits bouncing and the feel of her wetness overwhelming me. With a final, deep thrust, I came hard inside her, filling her pussy with my seed. Claudia let out a piercing scream, her body shaking violently as her own orgasm took over. I could feel her pussy clenching around my cock, milking every last drop of cum from me, her juices dripping down her thighs in an obscene display of ecstasy.

As we both came down from our climax, the restaurant continued around us. Conversations resumed, plates were cleared, and orders were taken. People seemed relieved that it was over and that the annoying noise had stopped. I leaned back in my chair, basking in the afterglow, my cock deflating slightly as I slipped out of her. Claudia was breathing heavily, her body slick with sweat, her hair disheveled. She looked like she had just run a marathon, and it was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.

"I... Please... Again..." she whimpered, her voice hoarse. "I need more..."

Shit, I'd forgotten to remove her lust. "Yeah... Be back to normal..." I said, waving my hand.

Her expression changed immediately, and her eyes widened as she realized what had just happened. "Oh god," she muttered, blushing as she sat up. "I hope... I hope I didn't make too much of a mess, sir," she said, looking around in embarrassment.

"You did great," I said, patting her on the shoulder, blushing myself. I got up, pulled up my boxers and pants, and helped her off the table. "Give me your number," I told her, fishing my phone from my pocket. I might want to get a hold of you again."

She nodded shyly, typing her contact info into my phone before handing it back. "That was... something," she said, still red as a tomato.

"It was," I said, grinning. "Thanks, by the way. I'll be on my way. Tell Mrs. Beaumont I'll be here tomorrow morning to get the paperwork for the restaurant."

Claudia nodded, grabbing a nearby napkin to wipe herself before leaving, still completely naked, the mess we'd made still on the table.

Harold and his wife were still going at it. I cleared my throat. "I guess I'll leave you guys to it. I'll get going. I've got places to be, women to fuck." I chuckled, zipping up my pants. "Enjoy your meal."

Harold looked up, a look of pure satisfaction on his face. "Thanks, kid," he said, out of breath.

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Hey there! Hope you've enjoyed the story so far. This is chapter 6 out of 30. Phew! Biggest story I've written so far (377 pages). I'll post a few chapters (depending on length) every week or so. If you're eager to get exclusive access to the full novel, or just wanna support me, feel free to purchase it on Kindle, Smashwords or Apple Books.

Also I'd love to see what you guys can come up with with this concept so do no hesitate to make your own branches.