Not Even Remotely

The drive to Jannacci's Pizzeria is smooth, even soothing, in a way. The restaurant, when we arrive at it, is definitely more than a tiny local diner. It's really more like a Charlie Brown's Steakhouse or a Red Lobster, in terms of the structural scale.

Also in terms of the parking lot, having more than enough parking for themselves and for the stores immediately nearby. Parking and getting out, we walk in, and find a short line. A few couples, and what would seem to me as an intimate triad.

For a few minutes, it's calm and quiet, before it's our turn, and we step up to the host. He looks us over in brief, before he focuses his eyes on me. I shake my head, then gesture toward Amy with a tilt of my head. He blinks, then recovers quickly.

“Party of Four, Madame?” the young man asks, probably around our age. Amy shakes her head gently, lifting three fingers instead of four. She leans close, and he tilts his ear toward her, leaning forward cooperatively, eyes staring at the ceiling.

“Right. My mistake,” he says, straightening when Amy does, “So you need a table with seating for three and room for one cock slave, then.” He turns and scans the room, chewing on his lower lip, as I check the name tag, which reads as Colin.

“Hm. Okay, whatever,” he mumbles to himself, then calls out, “Aaron! C'mere!” Another young man lopes over, coming to the call, and the two exchange words. Aaron takes the position at the welcoming host spot, and then Colin motions for us.

“Come on. I'll be your host, there're only two of us that produce milk for your cock slave,” Colin says, leading us through, “I'll be putting you in Rikuto's section. You don't mind if your server is Asian, do you?” Amy shakes her head promptly.”

“Fuck, no, we're not some racist assholes,” she replies firmly, “Long as Rikuto can offer milk in a reasonable time frame. My boy needs his lunch. I don't care if Rikuto's from Mars or Krypton or Okinawa, so long as he produces proper milk.”

“Only one of those places is real,” Colin observes, chuckling warmly, “noted, though. Between me and Rikuto, he'll eat. Don't worry, we'll see your boy well-served. It'd make the restaurant look bad if someone left hungry. Cock slave or no.”

“Good,” Amy nods, as we follow Colin, “I notice there are no children around. Is this an adults-only establishment?” The question hangs in the air for a few steps before Colin hums an affirmation. That explains how they can serve cock slaves.

There's no risk of children stumbling on something they shouldn't, because children are not allowed. It's a safe space for adults to be adults, without having to mind their language, or dress in a certain manner. “That's really kind of awesome.”

“Here you are, your table,” Colin says, before turning to me, “You. Remain standing. I will retrieve a kneeling pad for you.”

“Thank you,” I answer, and he smiles at me as he nods, then turns and walks away. I put my hands behind my back, fingers of one hand wrapping around the other wrist. I sway on the balls of my feet, waiting, while Amy and the twins wait, also.

“We'll wait until you're under the table where you belong,” Enzo says, “we won't sit without you. We're in no rush, slut.” My cheeks warm, and I smile happily, appreciating the sheer warmth of support. They don't have to wait, they want to.

It takes about two minutes, before Colin returns with a kneeling pad that has a hole in the middle, and a split in one side. It looks kind of like a life preserver for the stem of the table. I won't have to ask how to use it, at least, it being so obvious.

I take the cushion and then turn to the table, crouching and crawling underneath on my hands and knees. I slowly slide the cushion into position, and then shift into a kneeling position. Colin, one hand on the table, bends down to look at me.

“Comfortable, slave?” he asks, albeit the tone of his voice when he says slave is the same one he offered when he called Amy Madame, earlier. I don't think I've ever heard anyone say that particular word in a tone of such absolute respect.

“Yes. Thank you,” I answer, my ears and cheeks a warm pink. He smiles, then stands up and steps back, watching as Amy, Enzo, and Juno, take seats above and around me. I immediately lean forward to Amy, gently unzipping and unbuttoning.

Once I have Amy's meat freed from her shorts, I repeat the process for my little brother and little sister. Above me, I can hear the voice of our host, Colin, “Do you want me to feed your slave now, Madame, or wait for a little while to feed him?”

“Feed him now, please,” Amy replies, “we can wait a few minutes to meet our server. It will give us time to review what our options are on the menu.” In answer, Colin steps closer, increasing his proximity, and I turn toward him obediently.

Quickly lifting my hands, I unbutton and unzip him, freeing our host's cock from his uniform. The meat that swings out is impressive, not as large as my parents, but definitely large. I don't hesitate, I scoot forward on my mat and I lift my hands.

Cradling his hips with my palms, I wrap my lips around his cock and slide down fast. I don't moan, I know better, I have to do all the work silently. I keep my lips a soft, feather-light caress on his shaft as I slide down, taking him down to the hilt.