Served on a Platter

I applied for a popular online job as a personal chef.

I thought I'd be cooking simple, home-style meals, but I quickly found myself trapped in a world of surprises. The food they were craving was me, served on a platter.

The wealthy women were looking for excitement, torturing me night after night.

But what they didn't realize was, the real thrill came when the dogs turned on each other.

I stood hesitantly in the living room, wearing my sharp suit. Laurel Grant was sizing me up, clearly satisfied with what she saw. She nodded and said casually, "The food's in the kitchen. I'm starving."

I wasn't sure if I was overthinking it, but her words, "I'm starving", felt like they carried a hidden meaning.

In the kitchen, there were two bags filled with ingredients: seafood, meat, vegetables, everything you could imagine. The quality was high-end, and I couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. Rich people really were different. One meal here probably cost more than half of my monthly salary.

After unpacking everything, I began to think of something quick and presentable to make. But when I reached into my pockets, I found a box of rubbers.

I froze. It was awkward. I wasn't sure if I should grab it, but I couldn't just throw it away.

Cooking in a suit wasn't exactly convenient, so I decided to take off my jacket and loosen my tie. I immediately felt more at ease. To be honest, my college grades weren't great, and finding work in Quenford, a big city, had been tough.

Just yesterday, I'd been stressing about rent when I saw an online job ad: "Private Chef Needed: Must be good-looking, fit, and free of bad habits. Payment is 2,000 dollars per day."

I wasn't the smartest guy around, but I was quite good-looking. Besides, my dad was a chef, so I knew my way around a kitchen.

When I walked in, the manager didn't waste any time. He told me to come in that evening but insisted I wear a specific company suit. The pants were a bit too tight, making things... uncomfortable down there.

An hour later, the dishes were almost done. I set the table, hoping they'd be to her liking.

Laurel barely touched the food, taking only a few bites before setting her utensils down.

I felt my heart tense up. I quickly walked over, trying to gauge the situation. "Is it... not to your taste?" I asked nervously.

This was my first job, and I couldn't afford to fail. If she wasn't happy, I would definitely be fired.

Laurel waved me over, and I moved closer. Her warm breath brushed against my ear as she whispered, "Curtis, I'd have to test it out to know whether it's to my taste."

Her hand slid down from my Adam's apple, eventually resting on my belt. She looked pleased.

"Hmm... not bad."

It suddenly clicked in my mind. This private chef job was about more than just cooking. I was the one being served, in a way I hadn't expected.

I had seen people promoting their adult services online, and I had also seen job posts about private chefs, where a couple would usually show up to do actual cooking. I never expected to fall victim to this "false advertisement".

I frowned and gently grabbed her wrist, which was soft and extremely smooth. She was beautiful and sultry, and I figured I didn't mind making love to her, but I wondered if this was considered selling my body. After all, I had been a nice kid all my life, and I was naturally nervous, as this was my first time doing such a thing.

Laurel seemed annoyed by my hesitation and asked, "Are you not interested?"

Her jacket was off now, revealing a revealing, form-fitting costume underneath. Her round, plump pair was all I could see, and she teased me with her legs, which were wrapped in black stockings.

I muttered, feeling out of my depth, "It's just... I've never done anything like this before. I'm kinda scared."

It was true—despite being quite handsome, I had little experience in relationships. My dad had gotten caught up in gambling a few years ago, and my family was drowning in debt. I was working multiple jobs just to keep up with the bills. I had no time for a girlfriend, and even if I did, who would want to date a broke guy like me?

But as I looked at her, this beautiful woman, I decided to push aside my doubts. I'd do what I was paid to do. After all, I probably wouldn't be that unlucky and get caught on my first job.

Laurel smiled up at me, her expression soft and inviting. She grabbed my manhood and whispered, "It's okay. I like first-timers."

After she led me to the kitchen, she shoved me against the glass door and tossed me a rubber. "Do you know what to do with this?"

I felt my face turn red, but I nodded. "I do."

I had never used it, but I had seen some "tutorials".

I then heard my shirt being ripped. I realized now why I was required to wear the suit—it was of low quality and easy to take off.

Although we were making love, it felt more like her teaching me how to pleasure her.

I tried to recall all the videos I had watched before as I sat her down on the kitchen cabinet. I kissed her neck and explored her body, all the way until I reached her core.

"Ahh…" Laurel whimpered, her fingers clutching my shoulders, her expression one of pure enjoyment. "Curtis, pace yourself."

After one round, I was still in high spirits, and Laurel seemed pleased. She tilted my chin and said with a satisfied grin, "Not bad for the first time."

I quickly explained myself, worried that she would think I had lied to her, "I… learned from those videos I've watched."

She didn't say much in response. Instead, she grabbed a towel and walked toward the bathroom, in her birthday suit.

As I saw her figure, barely visible through the bathroom door, I felt something burning inside me.

Soon, the sound of running water stopped, and Laurel stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Seeing I was still standing there, hesitant, she gave me a playful smile. "I forgot to get you something to wear. Come on in."

I followed her into the bedroom, which had simple, elegant furnishings. I tried not to look around much, but I couldn't help but notice the pair of handcuffs on the bedside table.

Suddenly, Laurel smacked my rear and waved the cuffs in her hand. "So, Curtis, you want to try something new?"