"Seat my guests, Harriet," he ordered. One by one, I pulled the chairs out for the guests - no longer my friends, but my Master's guests - allowed them to take a seat and pushed them in towards the table. "Harriet will be serving up the courses. As a bit of fun," he continued, with a completely straight face and even voice, "I thought she ought to remove an item of clothing with each course. What do you say?"

I stood, appalled, staring at them. They weren't serious. Things were bad enough as it was, but to make me strip off, this was too much. Seeing the stern look on my Master's face I managed to stop myself from crying out, but in my heart I was more upset than it is possible to imagine.

"Ha ha ha," chortled Angela. "Splendid idea. John's always said he likes her figure. Get a chance to see it better, eh, John?"

John grinned lasciviously and agreed. Mark, too, commended the idea.

"Excellent," my Master continued. "Okay Harriet, remove that blouse. It doesn't fit you anyway." The four of them sat watching me impassively as I reluctantly worked my way down the buttons of the blouse, pulled it from my skirt and eased it off my shoulders, exposing my small breasts, trapped in the miniscule bra.

"Well, get on then," my Master shouted at me. "Fetch the soup!" I rushed to the kitchen to fetch their first course and served it up as efficienctly as I could manage in my self conscious and humiliated state. I was ordered to stand at the door while they ate, in full view of Andrea, John and Mark. Only my Master, whose back was to me, could not see me.

At the conclusion of the soup course, my Master ordered the removal of the next item of clothing, my apron. I didn't mind this one so much, as it didn't expose anything else. I divested myself of it and quickly tidied away the used cutlery and plates before escaping to the kitchen to serve up their main course.

Standing at the door, watching them eat their meal, listening to their idle banter, I felt tears welling up inside me. I should be sitting there, I thought. I wanted to participate, to add my comments to the conversation. I knew, of course, that I could not. My skin went icy cold as the enormity of the change in my life began to sink in. I was a servant now, nothing more, nothing better. I was famished and watched them wolf down a beautiful meal: my Master was a superb cook. My stomach rumbled loudly, enough for the guests to hear.

"Are you hungry, Harriet?" asked Mark. I nodded, my head bowed. "Never mind, I'm sure there'll be some leftovers for you later. I'll save you a potato, how's that?" I thanked him and said I would look forward to it.

Main course over, I was summoned again. I was dreading this, because I would have to remove something else now.

"Skirt, Harriet," my Master ordered. His back was still to me, but the other three watched intently as I undid the button and zip and slid the tiny, vile, little skirt past my hips and down my legs. I stood before them in my bra, panties and suspenders. Blushing, I began to tidy away again. Picking up Mark's plate, I noticed it was completely empty. He caught my eye.

"Oh, Harriet, what a shame. I forgot to leave you a potato. How forgetful of me."

I told him not to worry, I would be okay. I headed for the kitchen to organise the sweet course and heard them all laugh as Mark commented there was not much chance of him worrying about something as trivial as that. I bit my lip and tried to force myself not to cry.

I returned with the sweets and placed them in front of each of them. "Nice arse," commented Mark.

"Hmm, yes, it's one of her best points," concurred my Master. "It's nice and firm, nothing flabby there. Have a feel."

Dumbstruck, I felt Mark's hand on my bum, stroking it through the sheer fabric of my panties. I felt his finger trace up and down my crack.

"Excellent, very firm," he said. I was instructed to stand before John and Angela in turn and allow them to feel for themselves. John stared at me as he slipped his hand beneath the panties and stroked my bare flesh.

"That'll do for now," said my Master. "Plenty time for more of that later," he continued, ominously. "Harriet, stand away, and let us eat." They set to their gateaux, laughing uproariously at some joke I didn't catch. I found myself not caring, becoming detached from their conversations. They had nothing to do with me; I simply stood and waited until I was required again. With a sinking feeling, I realised that the next course would require the removal of another garment.

All too soon, they finished and beckoned me.

"Time for that bra to come off then," said Andrea. "I'm looking forward to this."

"Oh me too," said John. "I've often fantasised about Harriet's tits. I love little tits."

"Come on then, Harriet," said my Master impatiently as I paused fractionally too long. Resignedly, not catching anyone's eye, but staring fixedly at the wall opposite, I reached back and unhooked the bra. Alongside the shame I felt an element of relief to be free from the tight confines of the bra. Dropping it on a nearby chair, I stood in front of them, my breasts bare.

"Splendid!" cried Angela, clapping her hands. "What delightful nipples. Bigger than I expected them to be."

"They're very firm, as well," said Mark. Before he opened his mouth I knew what my Master was about to say.

"Absolutely, Mark," he said. "Have a feel. Harriet!"

Like an automaton, I moved next to Mark and felt his hand on my breast, fondling it, squeezing it, stroking my nipple. I confess I had fantasised about Mark doing this to me on more than one occasion, but certainly not in these circumstances. Despite my utter shame at what was being done to me, my nipple became sensitised and began to swell under his ministrations. He laughed as he felt it grow, pointing it out to the others.

"Better get her back to the kitchen before she gets overcome," laughed John. I was dismissed and told to return with a cheeseboard. My heart sank. I hadn't anticipated a cheeseboard, and was expecting to bring back coffee. A cheeseboard constituted another course, which meant another garment. My hopes that I could at least preserve some dignity by retaining my panties evaporated.

I brought the cheeseboard and resumed my station at the door, acutely aware of the glances from each of the three guests at my breasts and body. I willed them to continue eating, to spin things out. Eventually, however, they all declared themselves sated and called on me to remove the plates. I began to gather them up.

"Forgetting something, aren't we?" giggled Andrea, her eyes flitting from mine down to my panties. I looked at my Master despairingly, hoping even at this late stage for some remission.

""Well?" he enquired. It was no good. I hooked my fingers under the waistband and began to slide my panties downward, bending as I did so, and hitching up first one leg and then the other, to ease them over my stiletto heeled feet. I remained hunched for a moment, then, as bravely as I could, rose to my full height, fully exposed to them, my lightly trimmed dark bush open to their gaze.

My humiliation was complete. Or so I thought.