Author's note: I tend to write two types of stories: 1) the ones with positive endings where even the girls getting fucked are happy and 2) the ones where women are to be broken down and owned. This is more of the second one. If that's not your thing, this story might not be for you.
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As soon as Becca saw him walk in, she felt a groan building in her chest. As a waitress, Becca was used to the occasional leering gaze or clumsy come-on or even outright crushes from customers, but none so unbearably as Cam. Every Thursday night, right at 6PM on the dot. He always insisted on sitting in Becca's section, always stared openly at Becca's chest, and always had one more beer than Becca felt comfortable serving him.
One time, Becca had asked the server not to sit him in her section, so the hostess had told him that her section was full. He had insisted on waiting as long as necessary so that he could sit in her section. After an hour of waiting, Becca had come back from the kitchen to find that Cam had actually seated himself in her section, apparently without the knowledge of the hostess.
Becca had tried to be less-cordial. She had stopped smiling at him. She had even been downright rude. But Cam was apparently not here for her personality. No matter how rude she was, he never stopped being excited to see her or her chest. And he never failed to show up right on time.
Cam was seated in her section, probably on his usual insistence. He waited patiently, the menu unopened on the table. He always ordered the same thing and Becca knew that he wasn't there for the food in the first place.
Becca smiled warmly at the customers she was already with, approached Cam's table, and did her best to remove any semblance of smile from her face. He wasn't looking at her face as she approached, so Becca partly wondered why she bothered at all.
"Good evening," Becca said plainly.
"Helllllo lovely," Cam said, his eyes sweeping up to her face. Becca shivered slightly under his leer.
"I'm Becca, I'll be your waitress tonight," Becca said, letting rehearsal take over and to get her through. As she rattled off the specials, Cam's eyes fell down towards her skirt. Part of the uniform of the restaurant was a knee-length black skirt. Becca's actually fell a few inches below her knees, but that didn't stop Cam from trying to peek under the covers.
"And are you on the menu tonight?" Cam said as Becca finished.
"No, and for the last time I'm going to have to..."
"I know, I know," Cam said, lifting his hands into the air. "Harmless teasing, that's all." Becca had delivered her "for the last time" warning enough times that they both knew it was nothing more than hot air, but it at least broke Cam's concentration on her skirt.
Cam rattled off the order, but Becca already knew what he wanted. It was already written on her pad. She turned from the table and walked to the kitchen, fully knowing that Cam was watching her ass as she left. At least he was a good tipper.
Becca dodged Cam as much as she could manage, but still she had to deliver his drink, give him the restaurant-mandated 5-minute heads-up before his food was ready, and finally bring him his plate. Cam was seated at a booth, but Becca found that when she brought him his food he had scooted further into the seat. He was obviously hoping she'd lean over to deliver the plate. It didn't seem to matter that Becca's shirt buttons weren't undone enough to give him any sort of view.
Becca put a knee on the booth's seat, so she wouldn't have to lean too much. Still, she was tall enough that she had to bend slightly to place the plate on the table. Just as she was congratulating herself on bending without showing him any chest, Becca heard a sort of spraying noise and a powerful aroma struck her. The plate actually slipped out of her fingers, clattering loudly to the table, but she was barely aware of it. Everything suddenly seemed far away and if Becca was capable of thought, she might have thought the words "out of body".
"You want to suck my dick," Cam's voice informed her through the haze. "More than anything else in the world."
Then, the world seemed to snap back into focus. The aroma was gone and she was just kneeling on the booth. Becca became aware that she had dropped the plate on the table. Some fries had fallen off.
"I... uh... did you say something?" Becca asked, trying to regain her bearings.
"I said thank you," Cam said. "Are you alright, beautiful?"
"Don't call me that," Becca said, but she knew her instinctive response lacked her normal conviction. "And... I'm fine." She was now sure of where she was. She was also sure who she was with--Sir leers-a-lot.
"Is there anything else?" Becca snapped.
"Can I get another beer?" Cam asked.
"Yeah," Becca said, then marched to the bar.
What had happened? Why had she lost her head so suddenly? And why did it have to be with Cam, the guy that she would least want to be out of her senses around? She could practically hear his dick spring up whenever she was around. What a creep. What a creep with his big, hard creep dick. She hated him and that big, full dick.
Becca snapped to attention and realized that the bartender had asked what she needed.
"Sorry, another beer please," Becca said.
The rest of the night went without incident. She had some trouble focusing, but nothing so bad as she had experienced earlier. She was just a bit spacey.
Cam left her a generous tip, as always. It was only fair, of course, because Becca knew that he was going to be jerking off to the thought of her all night. His hand wrapped around that cock, thinking about her. Probably thinking about her on her knees, too. He probably envisioned her on her knees devouring that cock. What a creep.
Becca went home that night feeling more tired than normal. Physically, she was fine, but mentally she could barely stay on topic. Maybe Cam had bothered her more than normal this week. She just kept thinking about how much of a creep he was and how he probably wanted her to suck his dick.
Becca was doing community college in the days and working a handful of jobs in the nights. With a roommate, she was making things work. Still, her tiredness stuck around through class the next morning and all through her job the next night--this time as a bartender at a different restaurant. She was grateful that Cam didn't know she was a bartender here. At this place, she was normally wearing a shirt than showed some midriff and a tad bit of cleavage--it helped get tips. If Cam knew that, he would definitely be there, drinking all night and imaging her on her knees, sucking his big full dick all night long. She could just picture all those fantasies he would have about her. Damn, she hated him.
She had another shift at the restaurant on Saturday and tried to do some homework. No matter how long she spent at her homework, however, she just could not focus. She was realizing that she was spending an awful lot of time focused on how much Cam probably wanted her to suck his dick. She knew that he just wanted it so bad and she could so perfectly picture those fantasies--his fantasies, of course. At one point, Becca snapped back to attention only to realize that she had been thinking about his fantasy of her sucking him off for about ten minutes--all the while sucking on her pen.
She gave up on doing homework and decided to stop by the restaurant. She had done a day shift, but still showed up around 6PM. She told the workers that she thought she had forgotten her purse, but if it wasn't here then it must be somewhere else. Then she casually asked if there was anything interesting going on. Or any interesting customers. She did a glance through the restaurant on her way out, especially in her usual section, but there was nothing of note going on.
It was Sunday that it occurred to Becca to ask herself if maybe Cam's fantasies of her sucking him off were so bad. After all, all guys had fantasies, right? And what guy would say no to a blowjob? It was a creep for leering at her, of course, and she still hated him, but the isolated fact that he wanted her to suck him off wasn't all bad. It was natural.
From there, Becca asked herself if it was so bad of a fantasy for a girl, too. After all, girls could fantasize about whatever they wanted, couldn't they? A guy could put a girl on her knees in a fantasy, so... was it so unrealistic that a girl could want something similar? Could that explain why Becca spent so much of her mental time imagining a belt buckle against her forehead?
Of course, the specific details of the daydream troubled her. Above all, she was troubled that it was Cam in her fantasy. She tried to replace him with other guys--Ryan Gosling for example--but it lacked the same sort of excitement. Was it because Becca hated Cam so much that made it exciting? Also, for good measure, she inserted into her fantasies the idea that she should be playing with herself while sucking. After all, it was her own fantasy, so she should get something from it, right? But after she fantasized for a while, she would often forget to add that detail. There was something so irresistible about the idea of a dick in her mouth--Cam's dick in her mouth--that she just couldn't remember anything else.
On Sunday night, she actually rubbed out an orgasm while thinking about sucking Cam's dick. It was not her proudest moment. She also felt no more satisfied afterwards.