Note to readers:
[This story is a purely fictional work. The events and actions of characters in this story do not reflect my own beliefs or opinions. Consent is essential for real life sex, especially roleplaying scenarios such as those depicted here. All characters are adults over the age of 18. This story features non-consensual sex acts. If that's not for you, skip this one. Also, this is the second part of a story; I'd suggest reading the previous chapter for context as it's pretty brief. Enjoy!]
Ch 2.
Ethan's eyes opened slowly, and light began streaming in. Dense greenery surrounded him, reaching high into the sky above. His vision began to come into focus. He could see he was in a thickly wooded forest full of gigantic redwoods hundreds of feet tall. The midday sun fought to reach the forest floor, but a warm, sourceless light kept the woods from falling into shadow. He looked around. This must be the world of his neighbor's dreaming consciousness. He looked up and directed himself up towards the canopy to scan the surroundings. His body began to rise, and branches whipped past his face as he sped through the air. Ascending above the treeline, he could see the forest extending out to the horizon in every direction. Ecologically, an expanse of trees of this size wouldn't expand over such a massive area in such perfectly even thickness without breaks for hills, mountains, or rivers, but the sleeping mind usually doesn't pay attention to details like that. Where was Ethan's neighbor in this sprawl of redwoods? Ethan paused for a minute and listened carefully.
He took in the noises below: trees creaking in the wind, rustling branches, wind whipping by. Then, much quieter, a distinctly human commotion of conversation. He glided over the treetops to the source. He looked down and saw, between the tree trunks, a crowd of people sitting at tables. It was a busy restaurant stripped of its walls and thrown onto the forest floor. Tables, talkative guests, a kitchen full of busy cooks, and servers darting back and forth. Ethan decided to observe the setting for a moment, fading his body away to watch unnoticed. His eyes scanned the tables for his target.
He saw her standing by a table: she wore a loose black button-down shirt, a black pleated skirt that fell just above her knee, black sheer tights, and black square heels. Her hair was tied into two loose braids that fell across her shoulders, with two little strands of hair framing her face. He saw an apron wrapped tight around her waist and a notepad in her hand. She finished jotting down the table's order on her notepad and then turned around to walk back to the kitchen. He could see stress on her face: her eyebrows were tightly furrowed, and her breaths were sharp.
Ethan observed her walk briskly back to the kitchen. As she stepped, he noticed a small mossy pebble appear out of thin air on the forest floor right below her shoe, just as she set her foot down. Her shoe slipped on the mossy stone, sending it sliding across the floor. She stumbled forward, waving her arms for balance. As she tried to recover, she bumped against the chair of an elderly guest. His seat was suddenly jolted forward, causing him to drop a piece of bread onto the floor. Her face glowed red with embarrassment, and she began to profusely apologize to the old man. Ethan could hear her offer her a new basket of bread and run back to the kitchen.
From a distance, he overheard her explain the situation to the head chef. The stone-faced chef began raising his voice as she shriveled up before him. Defeated, she grabbed some plates from the counter and walked back out to the restaurant floor carrying two hot plates of food. Ethan watched as she delivered the plates to a couple, who began shouting at her for delivering the wrong dishes. Beads of sweat began falling from her face as she apologized again and walked back to the kitchen. Ethan continued, watching her make mistake after mistake, dropping plates on the floor, leaving tables unattended, breaking glassware, and being berated by everyone from guests to the cooks to her managers and even the other servers.
Ethan then hid behind a tree as he began to arrange his form. He willed his body back into existence, this time wearing a very expensive evening outfit. White merino wool sweater, a navy blazer, grey trousers, and brown suede shoes. He popped out from behind the tree and walked over to the open-air restaurant. He was shepherded to his seat by the hostess and sat down with his menu.
He looked around at the other servers ferrying food. He needed her there quickly before he was intercepted by someone else. He looked over at her walking back to the kitchen. Focusing intently, he pictured her walking over to his table. Her head slowly turned towards him with an expression of confusion. Her eyes scanned the tables as if someone had shouted her name from across the floor. Ethan focused all his attention on her again. He pictured her standing in front of him, notepad in hand, awaiting his order with a smile. Her eyes were suddenly pulled in his direction, and he watched as the wheels in her head spun, processing the command. Her mouth opened slightly in confusion. Quickly, a wave of understanding passed over her face as if she suddenly remembered what she was supposed to be doing. She immediately ran over to his table and smiled.
She bent slightly at the waist to better meet his gaze as she began her introduction, "Good evening, welcome to Lagrange Bistro, I'm glad you're here. My name is Alexa, and I'll be serving you tonight. If you need anything tonight, just ask and I'll help you right away. Can I get you started with anything to drink?"
Ethan tried to contain a grin as he ordered the most expensive glass of red wine on the drink menu. He couldn't believe he could really order around with just a thought! This might be her dream, but he was the one in charge here. He wondered for a moment what was motivating this dream. Accident after accident, her dreaming mind was crafting a constant cycle of embarrassment and shame, no matter how well she did her job. A bad day at work, maybe? Maybe, on an unconscious level, she wanted the humiliation. He smiled to himself. He was going to make this dream a lot better, for himself at least.
Looking back at his neighbor, he thought about her outfit. He looked at her knee-length skirt and imagined a slight improvement. In an instant, the hemline of her skirt rose several inches up her thigh. Now it was above her mid-thigh, scandalous for work, but just what he wanted to see. Then, he thought about improving her shirt. Just as quickly, her black button-down was replaced by a white linen blouse. The buttons were left undone just enough to give a teasing view. Ethan thought for a moment and decided to drop the ambient temperature a few degrees. He saw Alexa's nipples peek through her thin shirt. For a moment, she looked down at her new outfit, confused. Was this the same outfit she put on this morning? Just as quickly, the dream logic washed over her. She shook her head as her brain settled into acceptance of the new reality. Still, as she walked across the restaurant floor, she was embarrassed by her scandalous choice of outfit. She looked downwards with shame, trying to avoid eye contact and tugging down on the hemline of her skirt in a futile attempt to preserve her modesty.
Alexa walked back to his table carrying the 1989 vintage Ethan had ordered and a crystal wine glass. She set it down and uncorked the wine, ready to pour into his glass. As she delicately poured the wine, Ethan drew a mental picture of himself giving her a sudden shove from behind. She stumbled forward mid-pour and reached out to the table to keep from falling. She knocked the glass to the floor, and wine spilled across the table and onto Ethan's lap. Immediately, her cheeks flushed red, and she stumbled over her words as she rushed to apologize. She quickly ran off to the kitchen and grabbed rags to begin wiping up the mess. Ethan decided to say nothing, instead loudly sighing and shooting a cold look of contempt and irritation.
She bent down to her hands and knees to wipe the floor. As she cleaned, she continued to apologize, "I cannot express how sorry I am that this happened, sir. It was completely my fault. I'll do anything I can to make it right. The rest of this bottle is on the house. I deeply apologize for my clumsiness, sir."
Ethan kept a straight face, but he was internally grinning. Watching her crawl in front of him, hearing her excessive deference, calling him sir, it was all getting him a little bit hard already. He focused as hard as he could on her and sent a short command into her head: "All this humiliation, this embarrassment, this shame? Turns out, it secretly turns you on. But you don't know why, and getting turned on by being degraded? It makes you feel even more shameful and humiliated."
Despite his excitement, he lowered his tone as he finally replied, "You are an awful waitress. I can't understand how they haven't fired you already after all these fuckups tonight. Do you know how much these pants cost? More than you make in a week, at least. And now they're soaked in wine because you can't even pour from a fucking bottle without fucking up. What a waste of space."
He looked down to see tears well up as she kept wiping the floor. Her ass was peeking out from under her newly shortened skirt. She unsuccessfully tried to pull her skirt to cover herself up. Even though she was on the verge of bursting into tears, she felt a tiny bit of warmth between her legs. God, what the fuck was she doing? She had already made a massive mistake, and now she was getting off on it? What a slut, she thought to herself. She needed to pull it together, right now.
Seizing on her vulnerable state, Ethan continued to press her, "Well, what are you going to do to make up for it?" You clearly can't afford to replace these pants. If you don't make it up to me, I'll walk right back into that kitchen and make sure you never work another day here, do you understand me?" He followed it with a few unspoken commands to her mind, "You'll do anything to keep me from getting you fired. The fact that you'll debase yourself just for a paycheck makes you feel so, so shameful."
She began to choke up. After all these mistakes, she was sure she was on thin ice. A report from a wealthy guest like him could be the last straw. She looked up at him with fear and begged, "I'm so sorry, sir, I understand that I ruined a very expensive item, I'll do anything to make it up to you. I really, really need this job, sir, please." She was on her knees in front of him, looking up with desperate, shameful eyes.
He did his best to look unimpressed and replied, "Well, if you can't reimburse me for your mistake, you need to pay off your debt somehow. Your body isn't much to write home about, but I suppose it'll do if you can't pay me back any other way."
