On a beautiful summer's evening, my mind wondered as I stared out the kitchen window onto the expanse of woodland out of the back of the house. The sun had set behind the trees, and the final feint glow of light was only just still weaving its way around the bottom of the trunks, darting in and out, making its way through the forest. The window over the kitchen sink framed the scenery beyond perfectly like a masterpiece in an art gallery. I could stare at the view every day and it would still bring me a childish sense of awe. I had to stop myself from getting too distracted; I finished filling the glass in my hand and picked up the champagne flute to take them both through to the dining room.
I work most days as a waiter at my local restaurant, it's a fancy, yet cosy, establishment in the local village. Ran by a famous French chef Emmanuel, whose restaurant shares his name, it attracts the wealthy city-dwellers who come to the countryside in the summer. I've worked at the restaurant for a year, finding the job soon after moving to the area. My job mostly involves providing a smartly dressed pretty face to serve the fancy clientele their lunch. I only ever work lunch shifts, in the evening I'm waitering for a more important table - my Master's.
My training as a waiter is put to good use at home. As I'm carrying through the two drinks, I take care to check my posture as I walk into sight in the dining room. I'm wearing a different uniform to that at work. The heels are the same; black with covered toes and moderately tall heels, but that's where the similarities end. My black skirt is incredibly short, only covering the top half of my ass, and leaving my naked pussy uncovered. My white shirt fakes the appearance of a normal working shirt, but instead is unbuttoned down to my breasts, which are held on display by a push-up bra. Lastly, I'm wearing a thin black collar tight around my neck, and my shoulder-length black hair is tide back tight into a ponytail. This strict, sexualised uniform is set by my Master's wife, a stunning hot blonde woman a couple of years older than myself, and of similar age to my Master. Although she plays the role of his wife, she is still subordinate to Master, fulfilling his desires and coordinating us other submissives. She has an intimate understanding of Master's pleasures and desires, and thus sets the roles, tasks, and uniforms of all the subs in the house. She explained to me when she set out my uniform that the short skirt and open shirt fed a basic male appetite for ass and breasts, but the heels and collar were more personal.
"Our Master is turned on by the sight of a woman in a good pair of heels, and the choker shows off the neck while acting as a symbol of submission." She carefully explained.
When I asked her what his definition of a 'good pair' of heels were, she gave a lengthy and difficult to remember description of the good features and bad features, but at the end reassured me that the heels I wear at work will do fine, and she'd acquire any other pairs I'd need. Our Master gave her a monthly budget with which to buy lingerie, heels, and any other forms of appealing clothing for herself and the other girls in the house.
But tonight, I was just in my standard sexy uniform for serving Master and his wife their evening meal.
My Master had finished his dinner after coming home from work, and I was just taking through his and the wife's drinks as they continued their conversation. He was still wearing his dark blue suit, his tie removed, and top button undone. His wife was wearing a pleasant red and white floral dress she had been wearing for the day.
"Thank you, Lana." my Master said as I placed his drink on the table in front of him. As I go to put down his wife's champagne flute, she turns her head to face me. "Yes, thank you Lana," she said with a polite smile, "why don't you tend to your duties under the table now?"
"Yes miss" I respectfully respond. She was referring to one of my many 'sexual duties'. I carefully get down on my hands and knees and get into position under the table. The dining room is the second largest room in the house, and contains a large oak table centred in the middle, big enough for every member of the house to sit at at once. For most meals the Master sits at the head of the table, but as he is having a more intimate meal with just his wife, he sat at one side of the end of the table, opposite her. His position at the table is not only an important symbol of status, but also a practical choice. The table surface overhangs at either end by a few feet, making it easy for anyone to get underneath without having to get around table legs. As he was still sat at the end of the table, he could still sit opposite his wife and it would still be easy for me to position myself at his feet underneath the table.