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Roomies - Chapter 6
🕑 Added 2023-09-08 04:08:38 +0000 UTCOne Week Earlier
“I think you should start cleaning up around here.” Max said.
“Huh?” I muttered, barely looking up from my computer.
“Well, if you want to earn rent you’re gonna have to do more than just…suck my dick.”
“Aww but you seem to like that part!” I winked, turning in my chair to give him my full attention.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Of course I do. And you’ll still be doing it two or three times a day, but there are other things you’ll be doing too. Cleaning up this house will be one of them.”
I clenched my legs a bit, hoping he didn’t see my erection forming. His smirk told me he did.
“We should get you a maid outfit.” He said. “For you to do your chores in.”
“I…kind of already have one.” I muttered, embarrassed.
His amusement was unmistakable. “Of course you do.”
******
When he came home the next day, I was in the middle of washing the dishes. My hands dipped into the scalding water, but the 1950’s wife’s rubber gloves protected me from the heat. I swished the skirt of my skimpy maid outfit back and forth as he walked through the door, like a puppy wagging its tail in excitement. I knew he would have a full view of my ass when he entered the room. I smirked a bit to myself, feeling particularly slutty. Feeling his eyes baring down on me from behind. I finished cleaning the knife in my hand and set it into the tray of the dishwasher. I wanted it out of the way for what I hoped was about to happen.
“What are you doing?” he asked, snappier than I would have expected. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
Now I was confused. Isn’t this what he asked for? What he told me to do? To be his prissy maid around the house?
“You don’t put those knives in there!” He roared. “Do you have any idea how expensive those are?! The dishwasher will ruin them!!”
I looked up at him with wide-eyed horror, knife trembling in my hand.
He must have realized how harsh he was being, because his expression soon softened. “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “Bad day at work.”
“It’s…it’s okay.” I said, still a little startled. A cowering puppy at this point.
He stepped closer to me, lifting my chin up. “I didn’t mean to yell like that.”
“Next time just spank me.” I joked, easing the tension, and trying to change the subject. We stared into each other's eyes for a bit. After two weeks of fucking, we still had yet to kiss. I don’t think we ever will, I don’t think I even want to. Somehow it just feels too…intimate. I much prefer just sucking his dick.
We broke eye contact and set off to our own devices. I set the knife on the drying rack, making sure I rubbed any excess water droplets away, and got back to work on the dishes. I heard him open the fridge and the tell-tale ksssk of a beer opening.
“So why was your day so–” but I stopped when I felt his hands on me. Rubbing the ruffles of my skirt.
“You look so good in this.” He growled.
I love that tremor in his voice, the one that betrays his desire for me. His need for me. I could feel my legs start to tremble as he ran his hands up my hips and started groping my nipples through the lace of the outfit.
“Stop…” I breathed, not wanting him to stop at all, “I have to finish this if you want dinner to be made by–”
He bent me over the sink roughly, yet somehow gentle at the same time. Lifting my skirt and giving a sharp smack on the ass. I let out a yelp that sounded like the absolute opposite of someone in pain.
“Finish the dishes then.” He smiled, tracing his hands down the line of my panties, running them through my crack, down to my taint, then under to the otherside. “Why are you so wet for me?” he chuckled in my ear.
I could feel the sticky puddle in the front of my panties that he was referring to.
“I…I…” I breathed, unable to focus on what I was doing, just panting as the heat came over me.
He ran a finger over the head of my throbbing cock protruding through my panties. He didn’t go in them, he didn’t stroke me, just rubbed the front like it was a little, leaky clit. It drove me absolutely crazy. My knees buckled. I had to grip the edge of the sink to keep from collapsing to the floor as he used his thumb and forefinger to circle the head.
“Soap.” He said.
It took a few seconds for my brain to snap back into reality. “Wha?”
“Soap.” He repeated, reaching his muscular arm around me, holding his hand out in front, the other still rubbing my clit from behind.
I shakily grabbed the soap dispenser, aiming for his palm, but he pulled back so that it only squirted on the ends of his two fingers. He brought them behind me, tugging my panties down with his thumb and then working the two soapy fingers between my cheeks.
“Daddy I…” I tried to do a meager, futile protest, but the truth was, I wanted him inside me. I wanted him everywhere. He pressed his fingers into me, they slid in easily. The soap burned my rectum slightly, but I enjoyed the twinge of pain. My clit retreated a bit, but he made sure to follow it with his fingers. Pressing my cock flat against my belly and rubbing the frenulum side to side while he worked his fingers in and out of me.
“Cum for me you little slut,” He breathed into my ear, clutching his arms around me. The water was still running, I remember trying to pretend like I was washing a dish but in reality I was trying to just keep myself from collapsing to the floor from the stimulation. He pressed downward with his fingers, titillating my p-spot, working his fingers on my clit in unison.
“Mmm I’m gonna cum, Daddy!” I always call him that when I’m super horned up, like putty in his hands, “I’m gonna cum!”
He drove his fingers deeper into me, pressing me into the counter, but protecting my dick with his palm to keep me from spasming into it.
“Yea…yea…YEA! Oh god! Yes! YES! Uhnnnggg!!” I spurted and spurted into my panties, if his arms weren’t around me, holding me up, I would have been in a heap on the floor. He held me while my orgasm coursed through my veins. When I was finally done, he released me so that I was able to stand on my own accord. I gathered myself, fixing my skirt and outfit, feeling my warm goo soaking my panties. I exhaled, picking up a dish again. “Thank you. That was…amazing.”
I felt his hand on my back again. “Not so fast…” He said, bending me over, pulling the back of my panties to the side until I could feel the head of his cock pressing against my soapy hole. “I’m not done with you.”
Present Day
Things have been going better since I told Max I wasn’t going to be his household slut anymore. I got a job at Taco Bell. It’s not great, but it pays the bills. Actually…it doesn’t. I don’t make enough for rent—because a lot of my money is going to diapers. That, and I’m too lazy to pick up more hours. Diablo 4 really is sapping up most of my time.
Things are going great with Zoey. We are hanging out more and having sex more often. I’m able to get hard pretty consistently, and only have to think about my old escapades with Max like 75% of the time.
I still masturbate to some of the things he used to make me do. I spent all of yesterday on my knees sucking on a rubber dildo attached to the wall in my skimpy nurse outfit, but it’s just not the same. The dildo doesn’t have the same fleshy taste, it doesn’t grunt and groan when I suck it, and it certainly doesn’t give me a warm, salty reward at the end.
“Are you okay?” Zoey says, looking up from her plate. “You seem a bit distracted lately.”
I realize I’ve been swirling my spaghetti for the past minute or so without saying anything. “Yea, sorry…just…stressing over bills and stuff.”
She places a hand on mine, stroking it affectionately. “You know I can help you if you need it.”
I immediately shrug it off, almost like a reflex. “Na, I can handle it,” I lie, “I’ll be fine on my own.” But it’s like I’m trying to convince myself more than I am to her. Something about taking money from my girlfriend just feels so emasculating to me, but apparently taking dick from my roommate was just fine. Maybe I should ask for her help, or maybe I should just stop being such a lazy piece of shit and get something done.
“I applied for some jobs today,” I say after a bite of spaghetti, trying to divert the attention away from charity.
“That’s great!” she gleams, “Any callbacks yet?”
“Not yet,” I say, because I haven’t actually applied to any today. But I definitely will tomorrow.
There is an awkward lull after that, just the sound of forks scraping on plates, and the slurping of noodles. Is it bad that it makes me remember the time I slurped on something else?
“That was delicious!” Zoey finally says, breaking the silence.
“You cooked it…” I remind her.
“I know!” She smiles, “That’s why it was delicious”
She sticks her tongue out at me playfully and starts gathering up the dishes. “I got them.” I offer.
“It’s okay,” she says, “My treat.”
She’s too good for me. I sit back and admire how lucky I am to have her when her phone buzzes. I grab it and make my way into the kitchen to bring it to her. I glance at it because I thought I saw my name on the text message. But instead of being from “Jake” it’s from “Jack”. I can’t see what the message says because it’s locked, but whatever it is, Zoey’s eyes get wide and uncomfortable as soon as I hand it to her.
“Oh…uh..thanks!” she says awkwardly, snatching the phone from my hand a little too quickly. She steps away for a second, dishes forgotten, so I turn on the sink and begin to wash them. For some reason, pretending I’m in a maid outfit makes doing chores a bit more fun.
“I have to go,” she says, still seeming a bit flustered.
“Oh?”
“Yea…sorry, something came up at uh…work.” she shrugs.
“Okay well–” But she interrupts me with a quick peck on the cheek.
“I love you,” she says hurriedly. “But promise me you’ll do something this week to help take your mind off of things and make yourself feel better, okay?”
“Okay,” But I don’t even think she heard me say it before she was out the door.
Strange. She’s usually not like that. Zoey is always carefree, calm, and collected. A free spirit that can’t be tamed. I smile to myself, still feeling lucky to have her.
The door opens again a few seconds later. “Forget something?” I holler down the hall. But it isn’t Zoey that walks in. It’s another girl, with Max’s arm around her shoulder. My stomach drops. They’re both stumbling and smiling, probably coming back from a bar or something.
“Hey,” Max says, a little smirk on his face.
“Hey” I reply awkwardly, sink still running despite me turning to face them both.
The girl just smiles up at Max, not even gracing me with a glance. She is an absolute smokeshow, so I don’t blame her, she is so far out of my league we might as well be playing two different sports.
“We’re gonna…” Max says drunkenly, he tapers off because there’s no sense in voicing where they’re going. They stumble down the hall and into his room. The door shuts and the lock clicks.
I immediately turn the sink off, dishes incomplete, trying to hear what’s going on in the room. All I can hear is the murmuring of voices, so I tiptoe down the hall, getting a bit closer. I don’t put my ear against the door, that would be too direct, so instead I just sort of stand out there like a confused puppy waiting for their master to open the door.
I can hear heavy breathing, lips smacking, and then…another type of smacking.
“Unhh!” the girl screams, but it’s not a frightened scream, it’s a short, syncopated one that sounds like she didn’t mind the smack she received. She seemed to really enjoy it. In fact, it sounds a lot like the screams I would make when Max would–
Smack! Smack! Smack!
“uNNh! Unn!! Ahhh!!!”
Yep, that’s a spanking. She’s getting a spanking.
I try to imagine what position she’s in. Max certainly has some favorites. Bent over the bed, over his knee, or into the pillow. It’s definitely not the latter, her squeals aren’t the least bit muffled.
The spanking doesn’t last long, she must have stopped him, or he realized she couldn’t take much more.
Amateur. I could have handled so much more than that. I have handled so much more of that.
More mumbling. “Mhmming”. Growling. Grunting. Then a very distinctive noise reverberates through the cracks of the door.
Gluck! Gluck! Gluck!
Is she genuinely making that noise or is she doing the exaggerated pornstar thing? Is that how I sound when I suck his dick?
Used to suck his dick I correct myself.
I bet she can’t even give a good blowjob. I bet mine are so much better. She probably doesn’t even know how to play with his balls just right, how to lick them but never suck them.
Then I hear his familiar moaning. The heavy breathing that lets me know he’s about to cum in my mouth. Only, it’s not my mouth anymore…
“On the bed.” I hear him say shortly after, using that aggressive voice he gets when he’s Dominating. “I’m not done with you.”
*****
I had to shut myself in my room after that. Cover my head with pillows to block out the noise of the bedframe banging against the wall. It went on for what felt like most of the night, so I fell asleep with my headphones in, listening to a bit of hypnos. Obviously I masturbated, of course I masturbated. Trying to tell myself I didn’t wish I was in her position.
Luckily I slept in, so I didn’t have to see them leave together when I woke up. To take my mind off of it, I tell myself I’m going to legitimately fill out a ton of job applications.
And I actually do. Some menial office clerk stuff, marketing companies that I’m not qualified for, and quality assurance for video games that I probably don’t have a shot at getting, but hey, at least I'm trying.
I attach my resumes, keeping Max on there as a reference. Just because we’re not fucking anymore doesn’t mean he won’t give me a solid recommendation…right?
*****
I finally got a call for an office job. Selling pipe parts or something. They said they would just need to check with my references and then they’d set up an interview. It sounded very promising.
But a week later, they still hadn’t called me back. Was it something on my resume they didn’t see before? Did they google my social media profiles and not like what they saw? Or did they change their mind after speaking with some of the referrers?
It was time to have the awkward conversation with Max again.
“I’m gonna be a little short on rent again…” I say, head hanging low.
He smirks a bit like he’s not surprised, but doesn’t say anything.
“But I can’t do…that…” I continue.
“Do what?”
“You know…”
“No, I don’t.”
“What we…” I shift uncomfortably, “...did before.”
“What did we do before?” He grins, playing the fool on purpose in order to get the real fool to dance.
I sighed, knowing this would continue until I explicitly said it. “When I…sucked your dick and…stuff.”
He nods, basking in his small victory.
“I can’t do that anymore,” I say, clearing my throat and finding my footing again, “but I can do other things to maybe earn a little extra cash…”
The silence is palpable again. I try to wait for him to say something, but he just stares at me, like he’s looking into the deep recesses of my mind for my true desires. I look away, avoiding his oppressive gaze that makes me melt into submission.
“Maybe I can mow the lawn, or take out the trash, “ I suggest, “or–”
“Or do all the things you’re supposed to do around here as a good roommate anyway.” He cuts me off. There’s a bit of a twinge in his voice.
I sigh, knowing he’s right. “I…yea.”
He lets the silence hang a little longer, then comes to a decision. “You will do all of the chores.” He says, “We were supposed to split them evenly, but I end up doing most of them. Not anymore. You will do all of them, without me having to tell you.”
I nod. “Yes sir–” I stop myself, knowing that’s not how I should address him anymore, he’s just my roommate. I don’t know why I defaulted to calling him ‘sir’. “Oh-okay.” I correct.
“And you should do it in your maid outfit.” He says.
I look at him defiantly. The only time I've ever protested to something he’s said…I think.
He throws his hands up innocently. “Nothing has to happen.” He says quickly, “I’m just saying…I’m sure you’ll enjoy it more if you’re in your…element.”
He’s right. I hate doing chores, but pretending I’m someone’s little slut maid does give me that extra bit of motivation. Even if I don’t get to do the ‘slut’ part.
I nod, effectively sealing the agreement. “Deal.”
Another smile from him, this time a lot more victoriously. “You should also probably wear your diapers,” he says as I walk off “You tend to get a little drippy in just your panties.”
******
My spirits have picked up tremendously this week. Even though nothing sexual has happened between Max and me, I still find myself getting a little worked up at being his live-in maid. While he’s gone, I like to sneak in some humpies here or there. I never have to stop to take a potty break, so I like to wet my diaper early on and have it saggy and plump while I’m vacuuming or dusting the blinds. The couch has carried the brunt of my abuse. Most of my ‘break’ times involve me straddling the arm of the couch, and working myself back and forth on it. If the soppy padding of my pissy pamper could clean leather, it would be the shiniest part of the house.
Max doesn’t pay me much attention when he gets home, acting like it’s a normal thing for his roommate to traipse around in his frilly skirt and dirty diaper. I still serve him, but not the way I did before. I bring him a beer when he sits down on the couch I just finished grinding on, and pick up the shoes he kicked off, taking them to the corner where he used to put me in timeout.
He continues to bring girls and guys home from bars. Usually one at a time, but the other night he ended up having a Devil’s Threesome. It was like listening to a party you weren’t invited to in your own house. I’ve been spending more time at Zoey’s house once my chores are done, it helps keep my mind and ears off of what’s going on at home.
Zoey doesn’t seem to mind, just makes sure I text her at least an hour before I come over so she can ‘get the place tidied up’, even though her and her grandmother constantly keep the house spotless. It’s funny, because I tell her to do the same thing before she comes over so I can change out of my outfit and filthy diaper.
Despite the fun Zoey and I have, I can’t seem to get Max out of my head. The right thing to do would be to break it off with her, but a part of me still clings to wanting the ‘normal’ straight life.
Still, I’m getting too worked-up being dressed like a maid all day. I know I don’t have to, I just want to. I hate going to Taco Bell and putting on my stupid, ugly uniform. It makes me even more miserable. The best part of my day is getting home and slipping into something a little less comfortable, and a little more slutty.
I don’t know what it is, but as soon as I’m in the skimpy lace, it seems to melt and transform my mind. All I want to do is be submissive. To please anyone and everyone around me. Every time Max walks in, my breath catches. I secretly hope he’ll order me around, give me something to do, make me get on my knees and–
“Hey.” He says as he walks through the door.
“Hey,” I reply, clenching my legs together, turning to focus on the dishes. I always seem to be doing them when he gets home. Maybe it’s because I subconsciously know that the first thing he’ll see when he walks through the door is me bent over the counter, facing away from him.
I can feel him behind me, sifting through the mail and putting them on the island. My heart is pounding. Why am I getting so tingly? I’ve been deprived of him for a little over a week and I’m getting all hot and bothered? I knew I should have masturbated today. This is what happens when I’m horny.
I can feel my cock stiffening inside my diaper, just listening to him breathe behind me. I’m so pathetic. I rub my padding against the edge of the counter, hoping he doesn’t notice me giving myself a little stimulation.
I shouldn’t have done that, once I start, I just can’t stop.
“How was your day?” He asks absentmindedly.
“G-good.” I stammer, cursing myself for having such a squeaky voice, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “How was yours?”
He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.” He says, even though it certainly doesn’t sound fine, “Parts are on backorder, and we’re already behind on the project so we–what are you doing??”
I freeze. My arm outstretched over the dishwasher, his expensive Santoku knife in my hand. I stand stockstill like a deer caught in headlights.
“I thought I told you you aren’t supposed to–” He stops again, noticing my hint of a mischievous smirk.
He knows I know better. The only reason I would do it again is if…
“You want to be punished?” He asks.
I don’t say anything. I don’t have to.
A malicious grin spreads across his face. His hands migrate towards his belt. “Put the knife on the counter and bend over.”
I can hardly breathe, I’m so hot. The wave of submission courses through my veins, my legs quake in an effort to keep me upright, so I bend over the sink to take the pressure off.
The leather of his belt hisses as he pulls them through the loops. I hear the whip-like crack as he snaps it together. Taunting me. Teasing me.
I hardly even squeal as he lashes the leather across my lower thighs. The burn feels so good. Like an itch you need scratching. Like when you have a poison ivy rash and finally get to run the scalding hot water over it. That orgasmic feeling.
Once my legs are properly reddened, I feel his gruff hands on them. He steps in closer, his breath warm and moist around my neck.
“Is your diaper dirty?” He growls into my ear.
“No sir…” I squeak out, trembling in anticipation.
“Good.”
He yanks it off from the back, bends me further over the counter, and grabs a glob of soap.
To be continued
