The Bakery Girl (6)
After the rough ordeal in the warehouse, I eventually asked the shop manager to let me deliver only mayonnaise every morning.
“Hwaaam…”
I rose early, washed my face, and prepared to start work.
The first task was cracking two hundred eggs and separating out only the yolks. Then came the lemon juice and salt, which had to be mixed in… Because the shelf life was so short, I had to deliver that day’s portion fresh each morning, which meant getting up before dawn every single day to prepare it.
Making forty bottles alone, though, was more than I could manage. In the end I summoned Crane to the dormitory every dawn and put him to work on the stirring. That was the hardest, most exhausting part of the whole process. I had fashioned a whisk to make the mixing easier, but it was still no ordinary labor. Producing that volume was beyond a woman’s strength; it needed a man—and one with real muscle at that. Fortunately, strength was one thing Crane had in abundance. Thanks to that, he ended up performing forced labor every morning without even getting paid.
We settled on delivering forty bottles of mayonnaise a day at twenty gilders apiece. That meant eight hundred gilders in daily payment; after subtracting the cost of ingredients, six hundred gilders remained. Six hundred a day for thirty days came to eighteen thousand gilders. Converted roughly into the modern money I once knew, that was about eighteen million won. A considerable sum.
Even so, making forty bottles—however small—was genuine hard labor. I handled the ingredient prep, Crane turned the whisk and mixed, and Pana took charge of packing the finished mayonnaise into bottles. With the work divided that way, we just barely managed to finish on time.
“There. Last bottle done.”
Pana smiled as she screwed the lid onto the final jar and began packing them into the basket. We set three bottles aside and each took one—Crane, Pana, and me. There was no time to make sandwiches, so lunch would simply be bread spread with mayonnaise.
Hauling all forty bottles to the bakery was another ordeal.
“I’ll carry them again today. This kind of thing is a man’s job.”
Crane shouldered the heavy bag with his usual swagger and set off. Pana still didn’t like the idea of Crane helping, but two girls alone producing and transporting that much really was impossible. Our relationship remained awkward, yet we were cooperating to earn living expenses.
After finishing the delivery, Crane walked toward the academy and struck up a conversation.
“Miss Blair… working four hours every morning is exhausting…”
He hit the sore spot at a moment I hadn’t expected.
“Sorry… You’ve been helping and I still haven’t paid you. Now that we’ve received the payment I should be able to. How much do you want?”
I couldn’t keep freeloading off him forever. I was ready to offer a reasonable wage.
“…Actually, I’d rather you do something else for me than give me money.”
After a long silence he finally spoke.
“You don’t need the money?”
I couldn’t read his true intentions and had to ask again. He was the one who had brought it up out of nowhere; answering like this left me in a bind. My head tilted to one side.
“My allowance is plenty. I don’t really have anywhere to spend it anyway…”
Ah… A quiet little sound of realization escaped me. Of course. His family was a prestigious house with considerable wealth. There was no reason to be stingy with the sole male heir of the tenth generation.
“Then what else do you want? Don’t tell me you’re about to demand something weird again?”
Only now did I grasp the dark little scheme behind that earnest help. He had worked so hard for days without a single complaint—of course.
“Th-that thing… with your feet would be nice.”
“With my feet? Do what?”
I gave a snort of laughter.
“You know… the thing you did last time. In the bakery warehouse…”
Crane hesitated, then asked with forced nonchalance. Suddenly the memory I had been trying to forget came flooding back—the damp, fleshy feel against my sole, the way the thick ropes of semen had sprayed across me like a water gun.
“Mmm… Do we really have to go that far…?”
I shook my head with a bitter smile. Whatever meaning he took from that, Crane’s face grew steadily more anxious.
“This time I’ll cover it properly before I finish so it doesn’t splash anywhere else…”
As long as I didn’t get a semen baptism, it wasn’t actually that hard or difficult. Just a little disgusting, that was all… I kept walking in silence instead of answering. There was no special reason; watching Crane steal nervous glances at my face was simply amusing.
In the end he turned a pitiful expression on me. I knew full well he wasn’t a bad person. The fact that he hadn’t forced himself on me—despite my body being naturally built to tempt men—was proof enough. Still, if I kept making him hold it in forever, something might eventually snap… Perhaps settling things with my feet would be enough to keep this arrangement going.
“Haa… I really don’t feel like it… but if it’s only with my feet, will that do?”
“Yes! That’s more than enough.”
Was this really the sole male heir of a great house… begging the girl he liked to rub his cock with her foot…? I swallowed a hollow laugh and answered with lingering doubt.
“If that’s what you want, I’ll do it once a week.”
“Only once?”
He groaned in disappointment.
“Then… could I ask for just one more thing instead?”
“No.”
The refusal left my mouth before he could even finish. Using my hand or mouth was too horrible even to imagine. There were lines that simply should not be crossed, and for me that line stopped at the feet.
In the end he could only reveal his dejection by sighing, sweat beading on his plump face.
“You could just step on me…”
“What? Step on you?”
“Yes. I’ll just lie on the training-hall floor. Miss Blair, you only have to step on my body. That would be fine.”
I heard the sound of a dry swallow. Naturally it came from Crane. Eyes half-filled with anticipation and half with excitement turned toward me.
“Mmm… Just stepping on you is enough?”
“Of course! And if you insult me while you do it, even better. Call me a pig, a fatso… You’ll do that, right?”
Crane’s heart rate was climbing fast. Those sparkling eyes were so intense they almost hurt to look at. He even clenched his fists as he asked again. Haa, haa—his breathing itself had grown rough.
“Well… something like that I could probably manage.”
“Waaaaah! Really? It’s a promise!”
The tearful expression vanished without a trace; he let out a cheer and jumped in place.
“Quiet. Someone will hear. So no more complaints, right?”
“Of course. Call me at dawn or at night—I’ll work hard either way.”
Only a hollow little laugh left my lips. Crane’s mother… how on earth did you give birth to a pervert like this?
Crane and I headed to the swordsmanship training hall for our usual morning practice. Being so early, the place was still empty. I changed clothes and swung my sword with everything I had. The results of recent training had given me real strength; the blade now produced a fairly impressive sound.
— Whoosh! Whoosh!
“Miss Blair! No one’s here right now, so please do that thing.”
“What? Right now? Here?”
The request struck me as absurd.
“I’ll lie down, so step on me.”
“No… What if someone sees?”
“Just say my muscles were tight and you were giving me a massage.”
A soft little laugh slipped from Crane’s mouth as he muttered. He was already sprawled on the floor, gazing up at me with pitiful eyes. I could only sigh and shake my head.
Silence settled between us. After a moment of hesitation I finally lifted my foot and pressed it firmly into his belly.
“Ugh…”
My dazed gaze followed Crane’s eyes. He was making a sound that could have been pain or pleasure—I couldn’t tell which.
“You… pig…”
I forced the words out in an awkward voice, fighting the embarrassment.
“Hah… hah… More… please, more…”
He cried out in excitement. The silence didn’t last long. I stepped onto his thigh next and spoke in a low voice.
“You sweaty little pervert… Just looking at that damp cock of yours makes me feel filthy… I can’t stand it.”
“Haa… That’s good, Miss Blair… Ugh! Insult me more.”
“And your semen is so sticky and smelly I really can’t take it, you pig!”
I stole a glance at the massive erection tenting his pants and ground my foot into his chest.
“You fat bastard! Wash your cock once in a while. It’s so black and filthy… I thought my foot was going to rot!”
Once I got going, the insults started coming out with unexpected enthusiasm.
“Miss Blair! What… what are you two doing right now?”
A startled voice spoke from behind me.
“….”
My mind went blank. I turned and found Paul standing there. Cold sweat began to soak the back of my neck.
“N-no! This is… Crane said his muscles were tight so I was just loosening them for a moment…”
But before I could even finish, he turned his head away with a grave expression. Mortified beyond words, I covered my face with both hands.