Baker's Recipe 7

Lady Aldevan led me away from the dressing room I had come to know as my only home and introduced me to the long and winding corridors of the magically-enchanted estate. The deeper we got, the fewer servants we saw. None of them even acknowledged their mistress. She was like me, a nonentity, a shadow upon the wall.

Finally, she extinguished her own light, leaving the two of us in some forgotten corner in the dark, yet my magical sight allowed me to see every detail of her body. How she kept herself in working order, despite her age, how that dress clung to her curves. How the fabric slid down over her flesh, leaving her exposed before me. The bumps and creases that made up her anatomy, all of it was there for me to experience.

I sensed other things too, of course, I did. To do my job, I never needed to detect anything. I could have just been an animate coat rack, sent off to the catwalk with not a thought in my soul. But I was allowed to feel the soft fabric on my body. I could smell the perfumes the other models wore, and I could appreciate them.

There in that corridor, it was different. I heard the soft broken breaths, the shuffling of my mistress’s feet, and the gentle utterances, waiting, wanting.

Her perfume was floral and sweet, yet her natural scent wafted up beyond it, baking through the cover—something changed within her. Something was different than the cool and confident woman that ran the fashion shows.

“Touch me,” she spoke, finally in that hushed whisper.

I placed my hand upon her cheeks Her skin had a softness, yet there was more—slight hairs imperceptible even to my eye, the cracks of age hidden under the perfume, the nuzzling that she gave against my palms, closing her eyes.

She leaned in against my face, her lips parted, words wafting to me through silent commands. Where she told me to touch, I touched, but I did so much more. I listened to her, I smelled her scent, I watched her reactions. They were terrific, and they were also confusing.

She grabbed onto my cheeks, staring into my eyes. “Now, kiss me,” she said, but before I could even ask, she brought her lips to my faceless head.

Another sense exploded into me from that point forward! I grabbed onto her, brushing my face against her skin. I tasted the salt of her sweat and the sweetness of her perfume, and I wondered what this new experience really was.

Her cries flew through the darkness, echoing down for who knew how long. But it wasn’t the only thing carrying through. No… I stopped, face buried between her legs when something else wafted up through to me. I let go of her, wandering through the corridor, driven by a purpose far beyond that of my programming.

I didn’t head the cries of my mistress, disobeying for the first time in my existence to satisfy another new concept: curiosity.

I wandered towards the source for the longest time, not letting any barrier block my way. 

I was stunned, and yet, even with my sudden appearance, they did not stop. There it was, before me, the very first experience I had ever had in a kitchen.

I approached one of the stations and observed the whisking. I admired the bread rising, I marveled at it all.

The final batch finished baking, and while the treats sat upon a sheet to cool, I reached out for it, only to hear my mistress’s voice once more.

“Fools! You could have told me that damn doll was in here!”

“B-but mistress, you told us to ignore-”

“Fired! You’re fired!” She grabbed my arm, yanking it away from the tray. When she stared into me, she no longer had that look of love. “As for you… what use are you if you won’t do what you’re told?”

Then, I was tossed aside, left forgotten in a closet. Abandoned by my mistress, I had no choice but to endure existence locked away.

Have you ever been so deprived of senses? It is… it gave birth to another new emotion, one I had never thought possible. Sadness, fear… madness, even?

I was nothing but a doll for my mistress. She had abandoned me. I had been less than nothing to her, and all because I had become something more than I was intended to be.

I can’t tell you how long I was in there, Darling, stuck in that depressing, senseless prison. But what I can tell you is the elation I felt when the first light, the early warmth, went over me, and on the other side was my mistress. No… not that mistress, but the other Mistress Aldevan. I could never forget the warmth in her smile, and I will not soon forget what she held in her hand. “It’s a muffin,” she said. “From the kitchen.”

I took the muffin, squeezing its crumbly form between my fingers. I pressed my face against it, smelling that intoxicating scent that drove me to disobey, and finally, I crushed it against my face, and from that, I had my first taste of confection perfection.

“You really love that, don’t you?” she asked. “Come on… mother doesn’t look down here for any of her forgotten toys.” Her smile wavered when she said that, but she soon brought it back. “Here… take these,” she shoved a bag of gold into my hand. “Get out of here… and make yourself a kitchen.

“Mistress, this doll must obey.”

“No,” she said, clasping my hands. “Make your own choice. You are no longer a doll…. What are you?”

“I want to make things like this… this beautiful creation.”

“Well, they call people like that ‘bakers.’”

“So… I am… I am Baker!”