Not as Advertised

The ad said room and board in exchange for household chores. I thought that sounded like a pretty great deal, so I applied. I got to the house for a tour and interview, the man that opened the door was tall and muscular. He looked clean, neatly shaved, tidy hair, the type that would have a specific way he expected things. He showed me around the house, it was large for one man to live alone, he said, that only the rooms that got used would need my attention. His bedroom and bathroom, what would be my bedroom and bathroom, the study, the kitchen, nothing extensive. It was all already cleaned, so I wondered what he really needed me for.

"I'll pay for everything grocery wise, but if you could do the shopping and prepare breakfast and dinner I'd greatly appreciate-"

"Not lunch?" I asked. His eyes widened.

"I usually eat at work." I nodded.

"And you can do what you want, come and go when you like, I'd just prefer no male guests in the house I'm not familiar with." He seemed nervous asking for anything, like this was all new to him so I wondered if he really just felt lonely in this big house all alone, and if this was more for company than cooking and cleaning.

"I understand." I nodded, and we came to a stop near the door, back at the beginning.

"There's lawn care people, and pool cleaners, and a house cleaner comes once a week." He said idly.

"So, I'd just be around for cooking then?" I asked. He seemed flustered.

"If you're interested-"

"I am." I replied. He nodded. So, I moved in, I didn't have a lot of stuff, and he hired movers to help me, all out of his pocket. I felt like this couldn't really be all he wanted. The first night he cooked for me, he was a great cook. It was a three-course meal, table settings, wine, candles, the whole deal. I offered to do the dishes, but he said I must be tired and that I should just relax. That I could start tomorrow.

I went to my room and there was a paper with instructions left on my dresser, times when he had breakfast and dinner, and meal suggestions with recipe cards.

In the morning I woke up and made him eggs and coffee, I sat with him while he ate, it was quiet, awkward. As dinner had been, and then he went to work. I wandered the house, looked through the fridge, checked out what books he had, and eventually made dinner when he came home. I stared at him from across the table as he ate.

"Let me ask you, why am I really here?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can cook, have cleaners and tenders, why add another mouth to that?" I asked. He seemed to consider this a moment, and then a soft smirk played at his features.

"Another mouth?" He said with a small chuckle.

"You don't really expect me to sit here and think the only reason I'm here is to cook for you twice a day and for that you'll throw money around."

"It's easier than getting a dog." He shrugged and resumed eating.

"Excuse me?"

"Getting a groomer, a walker, a trainer, that would be such a hassle, and dogs can't cook a steak like this." He said pointing his knife at the steak I'd prepared for him.

"So, what, I'm a pet to you?" I was a little offended. He chuckled again.

"Would you rather I think of you as a woman? Agreeing to live in a house with a man, a stranger to you, for promise of food and a roof? How vulnerable would that make you? What if I thought of you as a woman and was driven mad with desire? You're an attractive young woman, what's stopping me?"

"So, I either get to be your pet or your mistress?" I asked bitterly.

"I'm not married." He frowned. "You can be my cook, but you seem unsatisfied to be simply that, I could put a collar on you and walk the perimeter with you on all fours and you could be my guard dog. How does that sound? Or I could walk around my table, in my house, and put my hands on you, my property, treat you like the desperate woman you clearly want me to make you."

"But you didn't hire me as a cook, you hired me to do household chores." I protested.

"Cooking is a chore. Guarding the house is a chore too."

"So, was that the trick all along? Get me here and then trick me into fucking you?"

"Is it a trick if I'm telling you it's an option?"

"So, if I said no, you wouldn't kick me out?" I asked. He laughed.

"Of course not. I paid to move you here, I'd expect you to keep cooking for me though. It seems like you're just looking for excuses to make your decision for you."

"You seem like the type of guy who has a lot of expectations, I noticed it from the moment I saw you."

"So, you knew this was coming?"

"I just didn't expect it so soon. You were so awkward, I figured you'd need some time to build up to it."

"You figured wrong."

"I suppose so." I stood and collected my dishes, before walking over to collect his. He looked up at me, a small smirk on his face, but he didn't do anything.

"What no ass grab?" I asked, wiggling my hips.

"You never gave me an explicit answer." He replied, eyes staying on my face. I put the dishes down in front of him and sat on his lap, looking over my shoulder at him.

"I thought I was a desperate woman." I said.

"That still requires both parties' consent." He said, looking down at me.

"I give consent, please feel free to use my body at your leisure." I said. He nodded and stood, allowing me to slide off his lap. He collected the dishes and went to the kitchen to wash them.

"What? Not right here on the table?" I asked, trotting after him.

"Is that what you want?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at me. I sighed and hopped up on the counter. I put my hand under the tap, cupping a handful of water before tipping it onto my top.

"Don't you want me?" I asked. He looked me in the eyes for a moment before turning back to the dishes.

"I'm still considering that leash idea." He replied. I huffed and hopped down, but he grabbed my throat, pulling me back. His hand was soapy, but his grip was firm. Not enough to block off my airway, but enough to fully dictate where I moved. "You're all wet." He said, looking at me with a weird expression.

"I feel like all wet is an exaggeration." I smirked up at him. He let go, and finished with the dishes before turning back to me, drying his hands on a rag.

"Take your clothes off."

"Just to it then?" I pulled my top off and he took it. He turned and walked into the laundry room, grabbing a hanger and hanging it to dry. He returned and I raised my eyebrow at him.

"Continue." He waved dismissively at me. The rest of my clothes I left crumpled on the floor, he seemed unconcerned by them. I stood before him, bare, fully nude under his penetrating stare.

"Like what you see?" I asked.

"So, you think I have a lot of expectations?" He said, more to himself than me. "And if I expect you to stop seeing anyone else?"

"I'm not so..." I shrugged.

"And if I expect you to stop taking birth control?"

"Are you using condoms?" I asked.

"Don't worry about me." He said, walking past me and back out to the dining room. A large window with the curtains open gave me pause.

"Shall I pat my leg and summon you like a dog?" He pat his thigh. "Come here girl." I frowned at him, but approached. "I'm not going to be gentle."

"I didn't ask you to." I replied tartly. He smirked and grabbed me by the throat again, pulling me closer to him.

"Mouthy." He said softly, pushing me to my knees. "Open." I sat there on my knees, mouth open, tongue out, and watched him pull his cock out. I'd been around the block before, but damn, this was one fine cock. Long and thick, with a slight curve. He put the head on my tongue, and I started licking it, sucking the mushroom top into my mouth. I started bobbing on it, but he grabbed me by the throat, making me stop. "Should've known you'd be good at sucking cock with that mouth." He said, pulling me to my feet. "Lean against the window."

"I'll leave smudges." I teased.

"You can clean them when you're done." He said that like he already expected it of me. He positioned me to face the window, face and tits smashed against it, as he pushed my feet apart with his boot. "And the floor and the laundry." He added.

"Why don't you do it if you want it done a certain way?" I retorted.

"Because you're the one making a mess. You're dripping on the floor." He said.

"No, I'm-" Before I could finish, he pushed three fingers into my pussy. I yelped, and slid against the glass making a loud noise. He slid them in and out so fast I went up on my toes, before my knees started to shake. I was close to cumming, I felt my body clench as I tried to hold it back, but he curled his fingers in me and I exploded.

"See?" He pulled his fingers back and wiped them on my leg. "Such a mess."

"Asshole." I said bitterly.

"Oh, you want-"

"No!" I swatted his hands away from me. He chuckled and led me back to the table, pushing me to lay back on it with my legs up.

"When you were imagining me fucking you on the table, was this what it looked like?" He asked, lining up with my pussy.

"No." I replied. He pushed the head in with a satisfied grunt, I felt stars in my vision, it felt so good. It'd been too long, and me myself and I were not cutting it anymore.

"What was different?" He asked, slowly moving the head back and forth.

"You were rougher." I looked at him and his eyes widened before he fell back into that smirk. He leaned forward, grabbing me by the throat and began pounding in and out of me. I screamed with each thrust and he flexed his hand. "Harder." I growled, dragging my nails down his back. He made a guttural noise, and squeezed harder. I moaned and he leaned in to bite my ear.

"I'm cumming." He whispered into my abused ear half a second before he exploded in me. The sensation of him coating my pussy walls finished me off for the second time. He lay there panting for a moment before pulling out of me.

"Now clean up." He said.

"But you took my shirt."

"I didn't say get dressed." He looked at me laying there and smirked. "Clean the table too."

"You're an asshole." I laughed.

"Not enough good things are said for the benefits of a clean asshole." He replied.