Free Taught to Serve by Jaye Peaches Page A

of her.
    “The red high heels too,” said Rob. “Then when my guests arrive, you will set the table for them. You will be here, standing right by the sideboard at precisely eight o’clock, blindfolded and waiting for us.”
    Casey guessed she would be watched by their mysterious visitors. “Please may I use the bathroom?” She was going to have to practise a great deal to overcome her nerves.
    “Certainly, Casey,” said Rob.
    By the time Casey returned to the dining room, Rob had gone. All afternoon she practised. It was tiring and required a great deal of concentration. She did not notice how repetitious the task had become as she was determined to do it perfectly. She took up Rob’s advice, and with the blindfold in place, used the furniture to find her bearings. She scraped notches onto the wooden ruler to help.
    The first few times she was horrified at how badly she was doing. She almost broke a glass, she dropped the cutlery, and she put the placemats upside down. Then she began to pull it together. Poise was critical, to move gracefully and slowly and not to rush. She realised she needed to pace carefully around the table like a dancer counting her steps. Keeping her arms loose and her deportment refined, she was able to use her posture to ensure everything was consistent. Breathing deeply, she would reach for a glass using the tips of her fingers, crawling across the sideboard until she grasped the stem.
    Each time she lifted the blindfold it got better and better. At last, she managed to do three perfect settings on the trot. The clock chimed six, and she sighed with relief. It was time for a break. Then she would have to change into her nearly non-existent lingerie.
     
    * * *
     
    The clock struck eight, and Casey was in place as instructed. She could hear the door open and footsteps. More than one pair of shoes were walking across the wooden floorboards. Three, she guessed, but it was difficult to tell as she was breathing so heavily and rapidly. It made sense as there were three places set.
    “Here she is gentlemen, my girl,” said a familiar voice next to the table. “Casey is going to set the table for us.”
    She thought nerves would overwhelm her at first. Her hands shook, and as she bent slightly to collect the first placemat, she was conscious that she was showing her rather exposed bottom to the room. Remembering that breathing was critical and that if she kept her body disciplined it would be easier, she steadied herself and concentrated hard.
    Naturally, there were comments about the placemats.
    “I picked them up in Japan,” explained Rob to his guests. “The paintings are done with live models, all beautifully bound, don’t you think?”
    There were murmurs of approval. Casey knew the guests were all men. She speculated about their ages and appearances, but peeping was forbidden. Placing the last glass, she stood back and hoped she had managed to achieve a perfect setting.
    “Well done,” said Rob from behind her. “You carried out the task with much grace.”
    Again murmurs from the other gentlemen.
    “Beautifully done, with such elegance,” said one deep voice.
    Casey’s heart swelled. She was sure she would not be spanked again. Sometimes she loved to feel his hand on her bottom, crushing into her tender flesh, but that day she had not taken any pleasure in her bare bottom being smacked hard. Now Rob was pleased, and that was all that mattered.
    “You can go, Casey,” said Rob. “At ten o’clock, open the envelope by your bed and follow the instructions.” He took Casey by the arm and deposited her outside the dining room door. Before he left her, he gently removed the blindfold and planted a kiss on her lips. His smile said everything to her.

Chapter Eight: Polishing the Table
     
     
    From eight in the morning until six in the evening, Casey was Mr Tolchard’s personal assistant—a role she was finding challenging as he had very particular requirements and tasks for her