You knock on the pure white door. It radiates cleanliness. The door swings open into inky blackness.
"Enter, my love," His deep voice resonates within your loins. You step into the room, and it lights up as the door closes behind you. The wood panel floor is shining and spotless, the walls white, and the brown leather furniture is polished to a glow. You turn your head to the kitchen, the tiles are glistening blue and white and contrast with sandy colored counters. You smell pine sol.
"Mr. Clean?" You call out, stepping into the kitchen.
"I'm in the bedroom," he answers. You step softly, increasingly aware of your body and how it moves. Will he be pleased? You worked for hours this morning scouring your body, disinfecting every centimeter of your skin in hopes that you could equal his perfection. You are in front of the bedroom door. The golden doorknob gleams, you can see your reflection in it perfectly.
"May I come in?" You call.
"You may," he answers.
You grab the doorknob and twist it, pushing the door open. Everything in his bedroom is blindingly white. The plush carpet, the walls, even the furniture. In the center of the room is a massive king size bed. Your god stretches lazily atop it. You take a second to admire him. His long golden limbs ripple muscle, and his classic white shirt and pants are dazzling. He grins at you, and his teeth sparkle, you feel yourself becoming aroused.
"Come to me, Y/N," Mr. Clean demands. You step into the room, feeling as if your very existence dirties it. You are a dirty, dirty person. He pulls you onto the bed and into his arms. He runs his big strong hands through your long hair. You pull his head towards your chest and kiss the top of his shining bald head. He groans.
"Why are you still clothed, Y/N?" Mr. Clean growls. His voice is rough with lust.
"Sorry sir!" You stammer, and slide off the bed to stand. As you start pulling off your top, you feel a warm hand on your arm.
"Wait... Dance for me." Mr. Clean orders.
"Can I have some music?" You ask, blushing deeply.
"Of course," he says. He snaps, and a vintage jazz tune fills the room. You sway your hips to the beat, and Mr. Clean leans back on the cloud-like pillows with his arms behind his head. You pull your shirt over your head slowly, spinning around with a flourish from a saxophone. Then bending away from him, making sure to stick your round buttocks in the air, you slide down your pants. You can feel Mr. Clean devouring you with his eyes, your underwear is his favorite color: white. You turn to face him again, and shimmy your underwear down your thighs and kick them towards him. They land on his chest, and he grabs them and inhales the crotch, taking in the scent of your lust. You dance, running your hands across your naked body, taking notice of the massive bulge growing in the crotch of his white linen pants. He slides his own shirt off. You gasp at his tan body rippling muscles.
"Come here, take off my pants," he orders. You obey, crawling on your hands and knees towards him. You hover above him, and slide your hands down his body. You can't help but kiss a path down his pecs and abs. Stopping at the top of his pants. You undo the button and unzip him, and his massive cock springs out. It's at least 9 inches long. Your mouth waters at the sight of it, but you restrain yourself for the moment, and finish pulling the pants off his body. Mr. Clean is not wearing underwear. You go to wrap your mouth around his impressive member, but he stops you.
"Wait, y/n. I have drawn you a bath," he says.
"Thank you master," you say, and quiver with excitement. Mr. Clean is going to clean you! He lifts you like a baby in his arms and carries you across the room to the bathroom. It is large, gleaming white with golden fixtures. The centerpiece of the bathroom is an enormous claw-foot tub, filled with bubbles. There is a faint scent of bleach in the air.
"You are a dirty, dirty creature," Mr. Clean says as he holds you above the tub. The scent of bleach is stronger.
"Yes sir," you say, "I am the dirtiest of all creatures my lord!"
"Then you accept your fate?" He asks.
"Yes sir!" You scream. He drops you into the foam. It is scorching, blisteringly hot. You writhe in agony as the boiling bleach in the tub melts the flesh from your bones. You die in agony, but know deep down, this is what you wanted.
"Finally, you are clean," Mr. Clean says as he opens the cabinet under the sink to fetch his cleaning supplies.
The end.
