Breakfast, of course

You spend a considerable amount of time embracing Jennifer, and you recall a piece of trivia about how the ideal length of a hug was three seconds. Well, that certainly doesn't include a hug from a pretty and naked woman clinging to your own naked form. Your thoughts however, was interrupted by a sudden gurgle from Jennifer's stomach, and you let out a laugh while she tries to bury her face on your chest out of embarrassment.

"When was the last time you ate?" You ask with concern, recalling that all she had were the biscuits in her bag. She separates from the hug and looks to the bathroom, and frowns a little when she sees the empty space where her stuff used to be.

"I took your clothes to the laundry," you answer the question she must have in her mind, "and I looked into your bag. All you had were some biscuits, when was the last time you had a proper meal?"

"I ate before I ran away," she admits, "but afterwards I had to take food where I could find it."

You raise an eyebrow at that, and you imagine her scavenging in trash bins or stealing food outright. With a pretty face and a hot body, you could see scenarios in which people were too busy admiring her to notice some sleight of hand. Then a horrible thought comes to you.

"You didn't use that knife to rob people, did you?"

Her eyes widen, grabs your hand with both of hers, and frantically shakes her head.

"I don't do that!" She exclaims, "I only use it to protect myself."

You look down at your held hand, and place your other hand over hers.

"I believe you," you assure her with a smile, "but what your story tells me is that you must be real hungry. Why don't we go get breakfast?"

"I'd like that."

"Great!" You tell her, and you pull on her hand to lead her downstairs. She looks around the room, and her attention lingers on your wardrobe. You see her turn her head to look at you instead and you smile inwardly, she's accepting her exposed nudity well. Still, you might as well reassure her further. "All my people are away right now, so it makes me happy to have someone to eat with today."

"Really?" She asks innocently, as you lead her downstairs, "It's a big place, why are you all alone?"

"Most days I'm in the city," you tell her, "taking care of business. But I like to take off and hide inside my mansion if it gets a little too busy."

"I'm sorry for interrupting your alone time."

"Well you came on a special night, usually I have my valet with me," you confide, "but Alex is away on vacation as well."

"Valet?"

"A gentleman's gentleman," you explain, as you reach the kitchen. You bid her sit on the counter stool, "Alex makes sure I stop being a savage and I don't make a fool out of myself to everyone."

"You're not a fool," she disagrees, but looks up and down your body, "I think you're a little like a savage though."

A little taken aback by her unexpected cheek, you place your hand over Jennifer's breast, and she moans when you place your mouth over her nipple and pretend bite her teeth. You then give it a little kiss, and trail more kisses up her chest, neck, jawline, and finally leaving a kiss on her lips. She looks at you a little out of breath afterwards, which makes you smile victoriously to yourself. Leaving her to recover on the stool, you head to the fridge and check its contents. You haven't decided on what to eat, but you decide it's best to ask her what she would like.

You turn your head, and see Jennifer tying an apron on her body. You marvel silently at the sight of her naked body barely being covered by a kitchen apron as she walks toward you and peering into the fridge herself. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you recover your wits in time to see her pulling out a bag of frozen bacon and hash browns.

"Uh, Jennifer," you ask, "what are you doing?"

"Well, sir, " she looks up at you smiling, "I reckon it would be too much of me if I have you to cook for me as well."

"Do you know your way around the kitchen?" You ask, but you could see she's already familiarizing herself with your kitchen. Opening cabinets and pulling out pans and utensils like she's a pro. "Never mind, you obviously do."

"Father said," she stops,a dark cloud looms momentarily on her face before it disappears just as quickly, "he said that a woman is only good for a few things. When I asked mother what they were, she told me the first thing was taking care of the home. So I learned from an early age how to cook and clean well."

Her revealing a little of her early life leaves you a little stunned. You never had such a conservative outlook in life yourself, thanks to your worldly upbringing. Even at your worst when you thought a beautiful woman was best used as your personal fuck toy, you never denied that the same woman was capable of more than just pleasing a man.

"Is that why you ran away?" You finally ask, "to get away from that kind of home?"

"...No." Is all she says, then goes back to her cooking prep, "where do you keep the cooking oil?"

Well, she hasn't opened up totally. But that's fine, maybe you'll find more to talk about with her after breakfast. You give her the answer, and instruct her where everything else is.

"One more thing," you tell her, "I'll leave you here to have a shower. I want you to start eating when it's ready and not wait for me."

"I don't want to be rude," she starts to protest, but you place a finger on her lips to silence her.

"You're my guest," you tell her, "and you're starving. So be a good girl."

She nods, and you pat her on the head. It's a little patronizing, you think, but she seems to respond well to it, and what you need is for her to respond well.

With that, you leave her to work on breakfast as you walk back upstairs.

The hot shower works its magic in soothing your muscles, and idly you wonder if maybe you should have made her clean herself up with you and repeat last night's bath. But you tell yourself you can have too much of a good thing, and she does need to eat first. Reckoning that she would take a while, you consider lingering in the shower, but a small part of your brain reminds you that she's technically a stranger, and might just up and leave.

Quickly finishing up, you dry yourself off with a towel and use the wall-mounted smart display to pull up security footage of the kitchen. To the relief of your briefly paranoid mind, you see Jennifer finishing up on setting the food down on the counter, sitting back down on the stool, and staring at the food. By the time you decide on what to wear, you can see she's finally decided to follow your suggestion of just eating first, and you stare in some amazement at the speed with which she wolfed down everything. Once you've finished wearing your clothes, you can see her putting her utensils down and staring at the doorway where you left.

Curious, you keep watching the screen to see what she would do. Eventually, she moves a hand under the apron, and you find yourself watching her play with her breasts. You curse in your mind that the same naked apron thing she's got going is now preventing you from seeing what she's doing with herself clearly, but it's quickly quietened by seeing that her hand makes its way down and soon enough she's also playing with her clitoris.

You resolve then to walk back to the kitchen as slowly and as quietly as you can, and you are rewarded by hearing her moans as you get nearer the kitchen. Just outside the doorway you can make out her mouthing out the words "Sir" and "cock", and that's when you step inside the kitchen to see her leaning back against the countertop, her finger pushing shallowly inside her soaking pussy with her virgin walls as tight as it is. The apron lies on the floor, discarded hastily.

You cough.

Jennifer's reaction is impressive. She positively leapt from the counter like a startled cat, and your fear of her crashing to the floor from her stool is unfounded as she gracefully pushes off the counter to stand right in front of you. The look on her face, however, is more like a deer staring at head lights. Her body remains petrified as you walk up to her, pass her by the side, and sit on the stool next to hers. You look at her stool, and see the upholstery damp with her juices.

"Have you finished eating?" You ask nonchalantly, as you help yourself to your food. She was starving, but conscientious enough to leave you with a generous amount of food. You chew on a piece of bacon while waiting for her answer.

"Yes sir," she says at last, "thank you for the food."

"Thank you for cooking it," you merely reply, leaving her awkwardly staring at your back as you continue eating your food.

"Sir..." her voice lets out weakly, "I'm sorry for what you just saw."

"None of that," you comfort her, and point to her chair, "sit with me."

"I thought you would get some energy back after eating," you chuckle, placing a hand on her thigh as soon as she sits down, "I'm a little surprised that you're already playing with yourself as soon as you finish, though."

Her thighs separate as soon as your hand rests on it, not so subtly giving you access to her crotch if you want to. Not one to refuse an enticing offer, you glide your fingertips over to rest on her clitoris, and she traps your hand in place by holding your wrist with both her hands.

"You're insatiable." You tease her while rubbing her clitoris in circles, "Something I like in my women, as it happens."

Her eyes brighten at that, and she looks at you with what could be mistaken as innocent hope if not for her nudity and obvious arousal.

"Am I your woman now, sir?"