[RainbowSky]

Chapter thirty seven

Holly's POV

My head was spinning. I glanced sideways at the other three and saw that they were deeply engrossed in what was being said, but despite this I thought they were judging me, disgusted with me. I could feel my heartrate rocketing and my breathing getting more panicked. Liam's eyes flickered towards me and I knew my breathing was too loud.

I swallowed hard and turned my gaze on Luke's uncle. I had to pay attention. He was going through a list of jobs. I vaguely heard my name and then George's as a pair. I had no idea what our job was but I was just going to have to trust he had been listening. Luke's uncle clapped his hands twice and everyone jumped up. I slowly raised to my feet. I was shaking and my legs felt like they were going to crumple beneath me.

The three surrounded me. "Holly are you ok? You've gone very pale," Lucy asked. I nodded.

"I'm fine. I just, got nervous about screwing this up. I don't want to get punished for messing up," I said trying to smile convincingly. Liam went to put a hand on my shoulder to reassure me and I side stepped away. He frowned but shrugged it off.

"Alright but if you have a problem let one of us three know. We've done this before, we can help," Liam said before he and Lucy walked away. I nodded, despite knowing I could never say a word to them, and turned to George.

"Let's get to work," I said convincingly, as if I knew what we were off to do. George nodded and led the way to a counter. On this there was several kgs of oats and pints of milk. I breathed a sigh of relief that despite not listening this was something I could manage to make.

George looked at me. "Any ideas?" he asked. I nodded.

"Yeah, we need to boil some milk to start with and then add the oats. You don't want to add the oats to cold milk otherwise it will just go really watery and thin," I explained. George raised an eyebrow. "Staple of a uni diet," I added. He chuckled and between us we ripped bottle top of and poured milk into a big pot. I carried it over to the stove and turned the heat on but the pot was so tall that it was hard to see in. I took a spoon and gently stirred it so it didn't split. Meanwhile George weighed out the correct amount of oats for the amount of liquid used. I stared at the bubbling milk and how if I accidentally spilt it on me, they'd have to take me to hospital for my burns and I could escape. But the voice inside asked if I wanted to contaminate everyone I came into contact with.

I was jolted out of my thought processes by a light touch from George. I startled and he looked surprised. "Sorry, I didn't realise you were so zoned out. You ready for the oats?" he asked. I nodded and he poured them in. The mixture became slightly harder to stir and the oats cooked and the porridge became thicker.

George stood next to me, waiting. "How thick does this need to be?" I asked. George shrugged.

"Same thickness we get given in the morning?" he suggested. I nodded, hoping that would be acceptable. The porridge on tables in the mornings was quite thick but satisfying. I looked at the porridge we had made and prodded George in the arm lightly, scared to touch too much of him in case he get infected. He glanced in and nodded. "Perfect, alright lets take it up to the dining room," he said. I turned the gas off and we each grabbed one handle so that we could carry it into the dining room without covering either of our body. It was heavy and really hard to hold at about chest height. It didn't help we were slightly different sizes. We walked up some flagstone steps and arrived in a very narrow corridor. In front of us was a queue of others with serving trays of cooked food or toast. We lined up patiently until the door leading into the dining room was opened.

I'd never been in any dining room other than the one that was full of slaves. This was a massive Harry potter-esque hall with one long table stretching down the middle and hundreds of chairs. Sat at the very far end on seats were the esteemed guests and some of Luke's family. I noticed his brothers were there and felt rage surging through me about what they had done to Liam. However, they ignored us and were presumably supposed to be on their best behaviour. Everyone put their trays down on the table leaving room in the middle for the pot of porridge. The majority of slaves turned on their heel and headed back towards the kitchen. I went to follow except Lucy grabbed my arm and shook her head. I took the empty place at the edge of the room, hands behind my back, eyes straight ahead. Liam, Lucy, George and I had been picked to be the servers this morning.

"What a delight this spread is" said one of the guests politely. There were five females and eleven males, plus Luke's brothers, and grandfather.

"Yes, they are well trained to cook. If anything is not to your taste, please let us know and one of the servers can retrieve the cook," the grandfather said. "Now please, eat." He beckoned us forwards. I walked quickly towards the top end of the table. Luckily for me George had decided to serve the grandfather so I didn't have that to worry about. I stood next to one of the brothers - no idea which was which. He told me what and how much of each he wanted and using tongs I put it on his plate and presented it to him.

I slowly moved down the table. One of the male guests wanted porridge so I took a bowl and ladled some into it before placing it down. He stared at it and frowned. I felt my stomach sink. Lucy was stood next to me and was serving the last person on our side so I quickly stepped back so it didn't seem like I was invading their privacy. I watched as he took a spoon, scooped some of the porridge onto it and held it up before turning the spoon on its side and watching it plop back into his bowl. There was silence in the room. I saw George opposite me, tense up.

"What do you call this?" the man demanded. Luke's family looked at me as it was my job to answer as his server.

I swallowed hard. "Porridge Sir." I said mustering as much politeness as I could.

"I could plaster walls with this," he added. "It's as thick as wallpaper paste. Porridge should still have some milk running through it. Its consistency should be a mix of stodge and liquid. This isn't," he announced.

"Would you like to complain to the cooks? or even punish them?" Luke's brother questioned.

"Of course I want them punished. How dare they serve us what is only good for inmates?! Go and get them now," the man added to me.

"Forgive me Sir, but I am the cook of the porridge," I admitted, my voice barely louder than a whisper with nerves. At that all eyes turned on me. I felt them stare at me and felt their disgust burning into me, adding the disgust I already felt.

"You?!" he asked. I nodded. "Come here," he demanded. I walked forwards on shaky legs. "I have a question for you. Do you like porridge that is stodgy?" he asked.

I couldn't work out if this was a rhetorical question or not. "If I'm honest Sir, I prefer it to milk porridge, but am aware others may not agree with this," I admitted.

"Well what a treat then for you this will be," he said grinning wickedly. I tensed trying to stop my body from shaking with nerves. He inspected my body. "Climb fully into the pot and stay there until breakfast is finished. We shouldn't be able to see any part of you," he added. I nodded once to show I had understood. I glanced at George who had stepped forwards to protest and say it was also him. I glared at him and he stepped backwards. There was no point both of us getting into trouble. I placed my right foot on the edge of the table and pushed upwards so I was stood at the edge. I took two steps forwards so I was next to the pot. I lifted my right leg up and over, the rim of the pot just brushing my pussy. I swung my left leg over as well and slowly sunk into the pot, my arse and waist sinking into the warm porridge. My butt touched the bottom of the pot and my legs were bent towards my chest. I tucked my head down towards my knees, my hair skimming the top of the porridge. It felt disgusting and gloopy. The porridge coating all of my body up to my neck. I was humiliated.