The Kitchen Slave

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic

"The Kitchen Slave" is a short story about the horrific reality involved in actual kitchen capture.

Submitted: January 12, 2018

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Submitted: January 12, 2018



"The Kitchen Slave"

Sweat under the kitchen slave's armpits pooled and ran in streaks down her side as she tood in the cornr of the kitchen. A metal ring on the wall abover her head held her chains fixed on wrist cuffs clamped around her arms. The chains were long enough that the kitchen slave could rest on the tile floor by squatting. She had no clothes on. Her master visited her every four hours. He came to the kitchen door too big to fit through the doorway and stood to order his meals for the mid-day and evening. A smaller woman escorted him and she entered the kitchen, unlocked the kitchen slave's wrist cuffs, and left the ktichen without a word to the kitchen slave and her master.

Every cooking session, the kitchen slave was released from her chains and the master wedged himself halfway into the kitchen doorway so that the entire doorless open space was filled. He barked commands at the kitchen slave over how to set the stove heat, which skillet or pot to attend and the order and amount of ingredients added to the dishes prepared from a list the samller woman  brought and taped to the refrigerator every first cooking session of the day. Once the master had his food the smaller woman restored the kitchen slave to her chains while the master held a gun st the doorway and giggled.In the evening, a bowl of water and a bowl of prridge were placed on the floor by the smaller woman. The kitchen slave could feed by putting her face into the bowls and licking up the contents.

Days passed and the kitchen slave could not remember how long ago she had been brought to the ktichen. Her nights were spent curled over her knees nodding her head until she dozed underneath her sore arms chained above her head. Fitful dreams of walking free outside came and went. An escape plan formed in her mind as the days dragged on. 

One morning, the smaller woman unchained the kitchen slave and left the ktichen as usual. The master stood blocking the doorway and barked his commands. "Open the refrigerator. Take out the butter and eggs," he sharp voice rang across the small kitchen space. The kitchen slave dutifully opened the refrigerator, extracted the butter and eggs and put the items on the formica countertop. Standing with her head down and eyes on the floor, the kitchen slave waited on the master's next words. "Pick a bowl from the left cupboard and cut a quarter stick from the butter," the master commanded. The kitchen slave picked up the table knife laying on the countertop and cut the butter stick in half. "Listen to me! Do as I say in order!: the master shouted.

The kitchen slave laid down the talbe knife, picked up the half stick of butter, squished the butter between her hands and walked with slow stiff limbs to the kitchen doorway. "I wish to please," the ktichen slave said to the master and moved a butter-slathered hand under the master's shirt rubbing his large belly like an uncooked turkey. The master's tiny, beady eyes blinked a few times, but he did not move. "The kitchen can feed you well," the kitchen slave said feebly continuing her butter assualt. Removing her hands from under his shirt, the ktichen slave reached her left hand up to touch the master's cheek. "Please," she whispered.

"Take your hands from me. I require my lunch finished," the master said. The kitchen slave dropped her hand to her side. "I think you might not be of service much longer," the master continued. He stared past the kitchen slave at the cold oven. "We will wait on Margurite," he said slowly, naming the smaller woman. The kitchen slave swiveled her head around searching the countertops and kitchen equipment for some alternate help. She ran for a soup laddle hanging over the oven on a hlf-empty peg board, crossed Pulling the soup laddle off the peg board, she crossed the kitchen back to the doorway and crouched in front of the master with the soup laddle raised above her head. The master smiled a tolerant half-mouthed lip twist.

The kitchen slave sprang forward and landed the soup ladle busting across the master's nose. A loud crack sounded as his nose broke the laddle's swing. Propelling herself up further against the master off his chest, the kitchen slave slammed against him. The master threw his arm out in front of him warding off the kitchen slave's attack. His gesture put him off balance and his right foot stepped slightly to the side. The kitchen slave fell back and launched herself forward again, pushing against the master's enourmous gut with her last strength. Like a pea dropped into a bowl of jello, the impact only created a slight flesh ripple.

Putting his hands out to either side of his body, the master grasoed for a steady hold on the doorway frame. His stomach was in his way and he could not quire reach either side of the doorposts wihtou stumbling backward a bit. His small-featured face registered mild surprise. The kitchen slave used her buttered hands on the right side of the doorway and slid between the master and the door jamb in a small gap left by the master's unbalanced backward step. Howling in frustration, the master lurched toward her, but the ktichen slave's naked body had no clothing to grab and catch as she half-stumbled and half-ran into the empty hallway.

A front room stretched empty off to the left. The only doorway in the house big enough for the master to use was a back door leaing outside off the hallwya's end. "You'll pay! There's no way out," the master screamed. The kitchen slave ducked into the enpty room and stood shivering and shaking next to the locked front door of the house. She whimpered and tried the door knob turning it furiously. Just as the ktichen slave let go of the door knob, a key sounded in the lock and the smaller woman pushed the front door open knocking the kitchn slave back. Dropping to her knees, the kitchen slave rolled at Margurite's shins, taking the smaller woman down to the floor. The kitchen slave did not hesitate as she climbed over the smaller woman and crawled out the front door onto the porch. Marguarite regained her feet and caught the kitchen slave around the ankle, attempting to drag the kitchen slave into the house  The kitchen slave's buttered hands slipped a hold on Margurite's hair and the kitchen slave smeared the lard across the smaller woman's eyes. Scrambling to hold on the porch, the kitchen slave found her own feet under her and jumped. The smaller woman tumbled behind the kitchen slave.

As both women lay winded where they fell, as car passed by on the small street in front of the house. The master appeared outside at the house corner and waved at the car. With every last breath still in her, the kitchen slave picked herself up off of the dead, brown grass and sprinted toward a stand of trees off to the side of the house property. "She's no good for anything! Let her go," Margurite yelled.

The kitchen slave stumbled across the leaves and sticks until the bramble receded as she reached a neighboring yard. She stood naked and breathing hard, caught her breath, and slowly walked up to the neighbor's house and quietly slumped down at the neighbor's front door. Behind her, she could still hear the master's voice, raised in fury, "Slaves! I need food. How dare she?"





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