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?"

Laurel had just finished her shower, and the towel she wrapped herself in did little to hide her figure. It clung to her curves, with droplets of water still clinging to her skin. She looked absolutely tempting. I found myself nodding, my mind wandering for a moment.

But just as I was lost in thought, the sound of a phone ringing interrupted the moment.

Laurel, barefoot on the soft carpet, bent down to retrieve her phone. It was a small, old-fashioned brick phone, and as she answered, she looked at me with a knowing glance.

"Sure. You're just in time. I have a young man here," she said casually. "Rest assured, Madam Rhodes. I'm sure you'll be very pleased."

Her words made me pause, and a sense of confusion crept over me. But before I could ask, Laurel walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a sleek suit for me to change into.

The suit had no shirt, and the collar was wide, exposing my muscles. Although I hadn't worked out much, years of manual labor had given me a solid build. My muscles were toned, youthful, and well-defined.

Once I had changed, Laurel handed me a tassel necklace. The metal was cold as it rested against my neck, and I shivered involuntarily. Then, she touched up my face, applying some makeup.

When everything was ready, I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the reflection. I looked... striking. I appeared polished, almost feminine, yet undeniably strong.

Laurel smiled in approval and handed me a confidential document.

I skimmed through it quickly. It didn't seem too complicated, just some rules about confidentiality, respecting the client's wishes, and ensuring full compliance with their requests. Otherwise, there would be a penalty of 500 thousand dollars.

I couldn't help but feel uneasy. The thought of selling my body, even for money, made me uncomfortable. What would people think if they found out? What if I got caught and was thrown in jail? I couldn't imagine what my friends and family would say about me then.

Seeing my hesitation, Laurel lightly tapped my hand. "Curtis, sign it now, or I'll find someone else who will. Madam Rhodes is very generous. The money she offers is more than you could make in several days."

At the mention of the money, my thoughts shifted. If she was telling the truth, it would mean at least a 10 thousand-dollar paycheck. The rent, my family back home needing my help, and my financial struggles... I couldn't afford to lose this opportunity. At least I would be enjoying myself in the process.

I signed the document, pushing aside my last shred of self-respect.

Laurel led me out of the apartment. It wasn't far—just a building in the same complex. Quenford's upscale neighborhoods were known for their wealth and exclusivity. Each floor was only occupied by one or two tenants.

She knocked lightly on the door, and when it opened, I saw a pretty young woman standing there in a white long gown, which covered her almost completely. To be honest, it was quite an old-fashioned dress, but on her, it only managed to emphasize her delicate, angelic presence, like a girl next door.

She looked at Laurel with a gentle smile. "You're here, Ms. Grant."

The woman smiled warmly, responding, "Ms. Rhodes, it's been a while."

As I took in the scene, I realized the woman was younger than I expected. Laurel had mentioned Madam Rhodes, but this woman, though graceful, seemed to be in her early twenties.

Laurel noticed me staring and cleared her throat, bringing me back to the present.

"Curtis," she said, and I quickly looked away, remembering the confidentiality agreement.

After a brief conversation between them, Laurel turned to me, giving me an encouraging smile while patting my shoulder. "Don't worry. Madam Rhodes prefers someone young and fresh. Just follow her lead, and you'll be rewarded handsomely."

I felt a sense of calm, my nerves settling as I glanced at the young woman. She was beautiful, and I would be having some fun while earning a little cash on the side. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

After Laurel left, the young woman gestured toward the last room at the end of the hallway. Feeling pumped up, I missed the look on her face. "The last room," she said, "Go ahead."

The room was dimly lit and sparsely furnished, with just a bed and a table covered with a black cloth. I hesitated for a moment, sitting on the edge of the bed and wondering what was under the cloth.

Then I thought about Laurel's words and curbed my curiosity. Shaking the thought, I wondered when the young woman would arrive.

Just then, I heard a voice from outside the room. "Aunt May, he's in there."

The voice caught my attention; something about it made me uneasy.

To my absolute dismay, the door opened, and a woman entered. She was older, her features refined, with a diamond ring on her finger which sparkle almost blinded me.

She took off her cape, showing a loose nightgown. Despite her fair skin, she was quite big, her fat folded in layers. She was twice my size, almost towering over me.

"Ah," she said with a playful smile. "You're a handsome one, aren't you?"

I instinctively took a step back, but her next words stopped me in my tracks.

"If you treat me well tonight, you'll be 20 thousand richer."

The mention of the money made me pause, my heart racing. It was a small fortune compared to my usual earnings. I told myself I wouldn't tell the difference if I just turned the lights off. Doing it with a big woman wouldn't be that bad; at least it would be soft and pillowy.

I approached her with a flattering smile, letting my slightly rough palms glide over May Rhodes' shoulders. "Madam Rhodes, please, have a seat. Allow me to take care of you."

May leaned into my touch, visibly enjoying the massage. "Curtis, you've got a good technique. I like it," she praised.

Internally, I rolled my eyes. I hadn't even reached her muscles, just kneaded through layers of soft flesh.

May might have been on the heavier side, but she had fair skin and smelled pleasantly sweet.

Then, she handed me a glass of milk, her tone playful. "Drink this. It'll make things more fun."

I didn't give her words much thought and downed the milk in one go.

While she continued teasing me casually, nothing happened at first. Just as I started wondering what her game was, a strange heat began to rise within me. It spread through my entire body, as if ignited by an invisible flame. Every touch of May's hand felt like ice on fire, pulling me closer to her.

My vision blurred, and my voice grew husky. "Madam Rhodes, shall we get started?"

That was when it hit me—the milk. She'd put something in it.

May's laughter was rich with implication. "Of course. Let's begin."

Inwardly, I resolved that she'd be on the bottom—I couldn't risk being crushed under her weight.

But to my surprise, May stood and pulled the cloth off the nearby table. What was revealed made my stomach drop.

A collection of toys was laid out neatly. May, with an air of authority, picked through them carefully. "Hmm, this one should do. What do you think, Curtis?" she asked, holding up a rope in one hand and a candle in the other, her gaze fixed on me.

Fear gripped me, and I stammered, "M-Madam Rhodes, can I... not choose?"

My hesitation displeased her. She set the candle aside, then, with surprising strength, pushed me onto the bed and tied my hands with the rope. I struggled, but her weight and my own weakened state rendered me powerless.

"Ah!"

A pained cry escaped my lips as hot wax dripped onto my skin. The burning sensation was unbearable, overtaking the strange heat that had consumed me earlier.

I lost track of time. When it was finally over, my back was covered with red marks from the wax. I lay curled up on the bed, my body throbbing with pain, as May ran her hands over my back with a look of satisfaction.

Just as I thought the ordeal was over, she pulled out a thin willow branch.

The blows that followed were precise—sharp enough to hurt but not enough to break the skin. I lay limp, sprawled across the bed, until I suddenly felt the rope tightening around my neck. Panic set in as I struggled for air, thrashing wildly.

In a surge of adrenaline, I managed to break free, turning the tables on her. I grabbed the rope and pinned her down, tightening it around her neck in a blind rage. My voice cracked with fury. "You sick freak! Die! Just die!"

May's eyes widened, and her face twisted in panic as she struggled. But she was stronger than me. With a desperate shake, she flung me off her, sending me crashing to the floor.

She sat up, huffing, and shot me an intense glare, as if she wanted to swallow me whole.

I regained my senses and scrambled to my feet, snatching up the black cloth on the ground to cover myself. Without a second glance, I bolted for the door.

With a soft thud, I ran headfirst into the young woman in the hallway. Her pretty face was painted with a mix of pity and shock.

Behind me, I could hear May's enraged shouts, but I didn't dare look back. I raced out of her apartment and into the night.

In the elevator, I clutched the fabric tightly around me. My mind was a storm of fear and anger. I had to get to Laurel's place.

Laurel lived in a luxury apartment complex, the kind of place where the halls stayed eerily quiet, even during the day. At night, it was practically deserted.

My reason for going to Laurel wasn't just to demand an explanation, but also to get something to wear before I could get out of here. Besides, I hadn't been paid yet.

When I arrived at her door, I found it ajar. Gently, I pushed it open.

From inside, the sound of running water and Laurel's soft moaning reached my ears. Before I could fully process the situation, the bathroom door swung open, kicked lightly by a bare, delicate foot.

And then, I saw her…