Avarice Desperation Valley

Hell's Kitchen

Nathan spent his subsequent days in the cavernous steel kitchen engaged in endless toil. There was a never ending supply of pots to scour, floors to wash, ovens to clean and fuel, and an endless stream of meals to prepare and distribute throughout the vast underground complex. For one so accustomed to the open spaces above, this place seemed to Nathan as though he was sentenced to the very bowels of hell itself. The new boy had been made well aware that he was not permitted to leave the confines of this cloistered new world. His new and very possessive master Robbie saw to that, he had been warned his punishment for doing so would be very severe.

The days were always long and hard, Nathan was shoved from Robbie's sour unkempt bed in the pre dawn hours, but only after he had pleasured the cook each dawn to the obese man’s satisfaction. "Cleanliness is as close to godliness as we mortals ever get." Robbie would remark in his tittering voice, whilst his new Master's piggish gaze bored into his naked back admiring his every angle.

Nathan would wash as he was instructed in the small ceramic basin perched on its rusted iron stand in the corner, run a comb through his light blond hair, then don his crumpled clothes. Shivers of revulsion wracked him, for he found the cook very distasteful indeed and longed only to be above ground again with his true master Wezley Bennett. He sighed inwardly with longing, lean strong and hard, something to be admired, not soft, flabby, and constantly perspiring like this fat pig of a man he now had the misfortune to serve. Still he knew this hideous man would ensure his survival for the time being whilst he formulated his plan of escape. So he played the part of the perfect slave boy, never once giving the cook reason for complaint.

He would then spend his next eighteen hours or so in the adjoining kitchen where the other three slaves were already up and about commencing the days tasks. Everyone there knew their job and there was little chatter, it was an oppressive atmosphere indeed. The four youths toiled in silence, sharing only fleeting stares to the background sounds such as the hiss of escaping steam from the boiling cast iron pots on the hulking black stove top, and the crackle of the hot coals ensconced within.

The three other inmates of Robbie's world cohabited in one of the other equally dark, musty, cellar storage rooms. All sleeping together on a very worn, vermin eaten mattress thrown down haphazardly on the cold earthen floor. There were no blankets to keep out the cold and the damp so at nights they huddled together miserably catching what little sleep they could.

The girl was no more than twelve years of age, her body not yet showing the first signs of puberty, probably due to her poor living conditions. She possessed, unkempt, perfectly straight dark brown hair, that fell to her mid back. This she tied back from her hollow face with a ragged piece of cloth. She had deep set, dark brown eyes that never looked up from the floor or her tasks. She would make eye contact with no one, her submission driven into her from childhood. This slave girl of the kitchens was furtive and sullen, her skin pale with a waxy gray unhealthy pallor to it. Nathan only knew her name as bitch, that was all Robbie and the other boys referred to her as. She was treated as dirt by all.

The boys were cruel to her often, burning her with scalding water or stealing her portion of the food. The huge cook was equally cruel, hitting her frequently whenever he felt displeased with anything, even if it was not her fault. Her pale skin breaking out in welts and bruises almost immediately on her skinny, awkward frame.

Nathan would cringe inwardly every time he witnessed it, for it seemed her petite body would break at any moment, yet somehow she endured. The poor thing would sob softly and recommence her task gathering herself from the floor, moving like an automaton devoid of all hope. Robbie was always hitting her for something, he had a bad temper when things did not go his way. Nathan began to suspect that Robbie didn't like her because she was a female, he was always threatening her telling her he would give her away to Dr Krosse. She would go even paler at this threat and try even harder to go unnoticed. It seemed to Nathan compared to her life, he lead a life of luxury.

The other two of Robbie's boys despised Nathan. That much was plain, they refused to interact with him at all, teasing and calling him derogatory names. The youngest one Jimmy was ten or so, and it was apparent the kitchens fed him well for he was not thin, but had a very solid build. He had short tousled light brown hair and rounded features, he was always helping himself to one delicious morsel after another when the cook was not watching with his dirty hands.

The oldest boy Geoff who was about sixteen clearly resented Nathan's presence there and made no attempt to hide it. Nathan guessed before he arrived Geoff was Robbie's favorite, but the cook had tired of the half grown lad, and he had lost favor, and had since been reduced to the status of the other two slaves. I will have to watch him Nathan thought, he could well see the malice in the way the boy regarded him over the steaming pots and pans. He did not trust Geoff’s motives one little bit, and was constantly wary. Geoff would and could hurt him if he was careless.

The best thing in Nathan's day was the kitchen cat Tiger, reminding him of his Grandma’s cat who he was very fond of. Watching this cat Nathan would be projected back to what seemed like another time when he lived in his Grandma’s house. Both of his parents had perished in a car accident when he was no more than six months old leaving him an orphan, his grandmother stepping in to raise him. The young female tabby kitten instantly took a liking to him, as Nathan would slip it small morsels of his own food at meal times.

Tiger often slept by the warm hearth of the wooden stove that was always alight, and would frequently seek him out, finding her way into Nathan's lap purring with delight. Tiger was swift and agile and caught the many mice that plagued the store room set off of the kitchen. The blond boy would watch the cat many a time cruelly rend its prey. Then for no apparent reason other than the fun of it, she would release it, her tail twitching and eyes intent as the poor mouse would run in blind fear. Only to be caught again, and again in Tiger's tearing claws.

So cruel yet so beautiful Nathan thought, and the thought of cruelty in all its forms excited Nathan in a way he could not explain. It always had. His mind drifting to the glorious days as he would watch Bennett deal with a captive, just like the cat and the mouse, and he felt himself going hard. To head off the sensation he hurriedly tried to busy himself with stirring the huge black iron cauldron that squatted on the stove top, filled with steaming warm porridge, as he did not need a beating for standing idle. He had not failed to notice though that Robbie would often overlook his mistakes, and he could see the other three of Robbie's unfortunates had not failed to notice that fact either, the two boys casting him black looks whenever they got the chance.

Because Nathan was now a mute, most thought him simple and incapable of intelligent thought, and he was generally ignored by all, yet intelligence he had in abundance. Even Robbie's three miserable slaves chose for the most part to ignore him completely, often mentioning in their conversations things which Nathan's keen ears and mind took in for later reference and use.

However ignored by Robbie he was not, for the cook had become infatuated with his latest boy, and Nathan spent every night submitting to the obese cook's lusts, patiently playing along, hoping against hope he would get his chance to locate and free his master, somehow and soon. Nathan meekly did all he was bid never questioning the whims of his new master no matter how unappealing the task. His mind had become the mind of a true slave, any vestiges of defiance had been crushed from him weeks ago, at the hands of Bennett. Gone was all desire to rebel or resist. Survival was all he knew and was all he was interested in.


Nathan lay now in the close to airless darkness drifting in and out of restless slumber, dreaming of his Master imprisoned, and the glorious day he would free him. Yes he would be worth something then, yes he would make his Master proud. This gave him a warm happy feeling and was all he had focused on since his capture. Nathan listened to the rumblings issuing from the scores of pipes that traversed the ceiling, the arteries fueling this steel clad world, a world that never stopped. Deep beneath the ground the sounds of this subterranean place echoed and reverberated all about him with ceaseless repetition. His slender, naked form was pressed against Robbie's grotesque, slumbering obesity in the small lumpy double bed. The cook's immense weight all but crushing the poor excuse for a mattress beneath them both. Sending Nathan rolling hard up against him just where Robbie liked him to be.

So Nathan bided his time plotting and planning, waiting for his chance to arrive in this hellish, dimly illuminated, metal prison, far beneath the earth. The boy had almost forgotten the sensation of sunlight and the clean desert air on his flesh, as he had not glimpsed the surface world since his capture many days ago, even through a window. There were no windows in these lower levels, just twisting dark walk ways that all looked the same. As he lay there he dreamt of those seemingly distant things, his only desire to be back in his Master's protection again. He was brought back sharply to his present troubles by Robbie's fitful sleep, the tired springs protesting loudly under the massive cook's weight as he shifted in his slumber, and snored loudly.

Nathan sighed softly at the thought of the harsh and cruel world above, off limits to him, missing its few freedoms. Shuddering slightly as the visualization came into his partially dream like state of his true master, who to the impressionable and fearful Nathan, presented a magnificent sight indeed, Wezley Bennett. This man often invaded Nathan's regular nightly imaginings, just as surely as he had invaded and taken Nathan's very life.

Part fiction, part fact, in Nathan's distorted and frightened mind, the lad vowing to himself he would find a way no matter how perilous to free his beloved Lord. The events of the past day spurring his resolve to take action as swiftly as possible. Again the past day's disturbing scenario played out in his head, leaving him filled with mortal dread, and desperate for the protection of his powerful master. He was fervently wishing it had never occurred.

The scrawny boy shivered despite the clammy body pressed hard too close to his own, and the stifling heat in the tiny, horrid space of Robbie's private quarters. As he lay there in the foul man's embrace, disturbing thoughts flowed through Nathan's tortured mind, his reason shaped by adversity, now resembling little of the caring, polite, boy he had been some six short weeks ago in his grandmother’s care. Nathan reviewed the events of the day, and in particular his uncomfortable, perhaps not so chance meeting in one of the many meandering corridors, with none other than the fearsome specter of Victor Krosse, as he ran an errand for Robbie.

There Krosse was, quite unexpectedly, swathed in his formidable black neatness, looking like the predatory crow, and Nathan very afraid, feeling like prey. Krosse rounded on the boy instantly and with dubious intent, Nathan wanting only to run as Krosse's firm grip alighted on his narrow shoulders, and the evil blue eyes burned into Nathan's very soul; interrogative, seeking his answers to the questions on his mind.

"I would speak with you slave, come." Krosse's bony hand tightening to a painful presence on the boy's thin shoulder with the utterance of the request. Nathan was afraid and unsure of what he should do, but his senses and what he had gleaned from overhearing others general conversations, warned him from accompanying the likes of Krosse anywhere, and certainly not alone, he had to get back to the protection of the kitchen immediately was all he could think.

Raw fear, powerful, all consuming, and a well practiced sense of self preservation drove the lad to disobey the command almost immediately it left Krosse's lips. Nathan suddenly and frantically wrested himself from the surprised Krosse's grasp. Youth and terror of the moment lent him sudden speed, as he bit down on the restraining arm hard, drawing Krosse's blood in the struggle. Krosse reeled in surprise freeing the boy to bolt down the passageway, back to the kitchens and the safety of Robbie's jurisdiction.

If Nathan had thought the sanctuary of the kitchen would save him he was shortly proven wrong, as the heavy steel door was flung wide, and a furious Krosse entered Robbie's domain. His menacing ice chips of eyes latching on to Nathan's slight, fearful form, as he cowered, trembling with fear behind Robbie's ample bulk, fervently seeking any protection that could be had there. Robbie glanced up, agitated to be so disturbed with his preparations for the impending evening meal, as he was running behind this evening and in a vile mood as a result. The flustered cook was surprised as he registered the presence of none other than Victor Krosse, whose face was a mask of snarling rage, as his menacing black clad form stepped briskly through the heavy metal portal, a rare visitor indeed to Robbie's domain.

Before Robbie had time to question the intrusion and its cause, Krosse was already half way across the room in hot pursuit of Nathan shouting at him loudly, scattering the alarmed servants, and Tiger underfoot. "You come here you hear me, no one disobeys me slave! You will be sorry!" However this was Robbie's kingdom, and he was very possessive of all that was his, and that possession made him bold and careless. For all who lived here in this underground kingdom regardless of their importance knew it was folly to mess with Victor Krosse for any reason. To stand in his way was something no sane man did, it was easier and safer to let the sinister second in command do as he wished and that was the code most lived by.

Robbie did not stop to think and reason the ramifications, after all in the grand scheme of things a cook only ranked so high, even a gourmet one such as Robbie. "What the hell do you think your doing? Robbie's voice was high and strained. "He is mine. Gifted to me by Lord Lothar himself! If you have business with him it is with his owner, me." Robbie snapped waspishly at the black clad intruder, pointing a pudgy finger into his rotund belly to further emphasize the truth of his statement. The obese man was clearly very annoyed, maneuvering his considerable bulk between the cowering Nathan, and Krosse's angry forward momentum, carving knife in hand.

Victor Krosse in all his fury only narrowly avoided a collision with the huge cook, pulling up suddenly to a jarring halt, face livid with rage, his blue eyes sparkling in acute anger. The two men glared at each other and for many seconds nothing was said, everyone, even the other kitchen slaves frozen in mid task. Tiger hiding under the table fur bristling.

"I merely wished to question him about the captives." Krosse said breaking the tableau of frozen silence, his voice quieter but nonetheless filled with deadly ire. Nathan's ears pricked as he thought of his Master somewhere imprisoned, and deep inside his stomach turned as he realized this mean no nonsense looking man was going to try to extract some kind of information from him to use to hurt his beloved master and his men. He could not let this happen and cursed himself inwardly for revealing his ability to write. His mind was racing with frightening thoughts. Would this man take him and torture him for that information? He knew the answer already and shivered, grasping at Robbie's shirt, and he knew time was running out. He had to appeal to Robbie's every sense of vanity, and be the best slave boy the kitchens had ever had. He would go nowhere alone now and if he did he would do so with all the senses of a wild hunted animal, watching carefully every dark shadow and corner he would not be caught again. Nathan wanted to weep in his fear and helplessness but he held it in check, his face white, his green eyes glistening with barely suppressed tears.

Robbie puffed himself up, adding inches to his already distended bulk and answered, his effeminate voice seemed comical. "In case it has escaped you, the boy is a mute. Stupid as a sheep, but he does have other redeeming qualities." Placing his arm protectively around Nathan and hugging him hard into his ample side, hoping to call Krosse's bluff with his statement. He was not going to lose this prize to Krosse's experiments he thought with annoyance.

"Why don't you go and wash and peel those potatoes my boy, and you three get back to work I never said you could stop! Get your minds on it, NOW!" Robbie snapped, his voice even higher pitched than was usual. Lashing out at the closest unfortunate with his quirt causing her to yelp with its stinging pain and hasten back to work.

Nathan taking Robbie's cue scurried to the rear of the room and commenced his task eyes averted. Gathering up the scrubbing brush in shaking hands and washing the huge basket of potatoes vigorously, he dared not look up. Krosse's icy eyes locked on the boy like a hawk, looking directly past the cook, sensing he would not win this day. "So if you do not mind Sir." Robbie quipped, calmer now. The “Sir” was pronounced with sarcastic emphasis. "I have much to do, and we must get on. I do not have time for such distractions. You of all people should know how displeased our Lord is when dinner is served late." The cook wiped his perspiring forehead with the hem of his apron, and began to carve the meat turning his back on Krosse in a gesture of haughty dismissal.

Krosse stood there fuming yet unable to find it in himself to retreat, as Robbie dismissed his presence completely, fussing over this evenings fare of roast sheep and mouth watering vegetables, garnered in rosemary leaves. You arrogant and stupid fool Krosse thought, I will get you, you bloated half wit, all in good time. It is I who truly rules here, and Lord Lothar listens to my council! His deviate mind ranted.

However none of this he said aloud leaving off with a final dialogue that chilled Nathan completely. "I will question him Robbie mark my word. Next time I will have Lord Lothar's permission, and you will not stop me. I can take him any time I like, do not forget that." Krosse's tone was threatening and his expression was flat and unreadable as he turned on his heel and departed from the room, the heavy metal door clanging shut behind him like the chiming of the bells of doom.

Nathan thought on all this now as he lay there, feeling like a caged bird, his heart beating feverishly against his chest, the blood pounding in his temples as he fretted at his current situation. He jumped as Robbie in his sleep unconsciously ran his soft clammy hand over Nathan's thigh in a caress. However the fat cook did not wake and continued his snoring slumber, Nathan dreaming of his true Master once again, of being by his side, the comforting scent of him, touching him in the dark. A single tear ran down his hot cheek, and his blue green eyes sparkled in the dark, as a plan of desperate action formulated in Nathan's mind.


Krosse had left the kitchen that evening with murder on his mind, though on most days killing someone was truly never far from his deeds. He was livid with rage at being treated with such contempt by that fat lump of a cook, and unused to being denied anything by anyone. Robbie Coltraine was a man he considered a travesty of nature, as was anyone who was homosexual or different. Krosse had no respect for him whatsoever. If he had his way Robbie would cease to exist in an instant, he would be cleansing the world and doing it a favor. Krosse strode in anger his shining black boots sounding loudly throughout the gloomy corridors as he made his way back toward his chambers which were located just off of Lord Lothar's own.

Victor closed the door with a dull thud to his dark inner world. No one came here, no one visited, he had few friends if indeed he had any. Lord Lothar was in truth the only soul Victor could call a friend. As he stepped through his darkened doorway he paused to gaze on his slave girl. She was the only company he kept here in his dark, plush apartment, brimming with every conceivable luxury much like Lothar’s own private quarters. She was naked wearing only a stainless steel band of rolled silver about her throat, wrists, and ankles. Her thick lustrous auburn hair cascaded in soft ringlets down her unmarked ivory flesh, and he marveled at her beauty as she knelt obediently before him awaiting his command. A faint smile melted his severe features, and his ire receded somewhat. It was hard to look on her and stay angry he mused. He would save revenge for another day, time and authority were on his side.

Still he was angry, he needed to get into that boy of Bennett's mind before he could commence to torture the colossal man with any thoroughness. He wanted it to be perfect, the thought of bringing a powerful savage like Bennett to his knees was exceptionally exciting to Victor. Torture was in his blood, he fantasized long and hard on ways to make strong men talk, perfecting his art form, ever glad to be in an age where he could practice his abhorrent craft at will. Here there was no shortage of new victims to ply his talents on. He stroked his slave's soft warm skin and ran his fingers through her thick hair as she looked up at him like a loyal dog. "Fetch me my pipe little one." He said softly. As she hurried to do his bidding he sat back in his favorite studded leather chair, reclining it and putting his feet up on the matching ottoman by the glowing fire.

It was warm and comfortable here he mused, as he took his pipe and drew in a long puff, watching as his gorgeous naked slave took off his boots and began massaging his tired feet, he had been on them all day. This is the life he thought, every conceivable vice and luxury at my fingertips. "I wish you had been here, I miss you with every day that passes Cassandra." Krosse muttered wistfully to the faded photograph of an equally beautiful woman that sat perched on his lamp table in an ornate golden frame. His slave looked up at him then from her ministrations, her blue gray eyes catching the fire's warm glow, as did the bands around her flesh making them appear warm gold.

Krosse smiled leaning forward and drew her to him, at once smelling the mixed scent of vanilla and lavender on her inviting flesh. Clutching possessively at the unbending collar about her graceful swan neck, her dainty hands petting his close cropped gray hair continuing down his clean shaven jaw to his chest, deftly loosening the tie about his neck and the buttons on his neat black shirt. She was his and his alone, she belonged to no one else. None here knew she even existed, this prisoner here in his own inner sanctum, he had broken her and trained her perfectly. She was the closest thing he could have to her, he missed her so. As he gazed again at the faded photo sadness evident in his usually cold, unfeeling gaze.

"Come here my beautiful daughter and make your Father happy." He said tenderly stroking her pert breasts noting the hardness of her nipples and her eagerness to please him. Only Victor knew of the striking similarities between the woman in the photograph taken so long ago before the war, and this slave girl so eager to please him. The woman he would have given anything for, the woman who had spurned him. Ah if only she could see him now. He sighed and was glad he no longer lived in an age when the world was a different place and there were rules to follow, laws to obey. He touched her ever so gently as she slid on to his lap kissing him lightly on his neck, arousing him. Most would have cried incest, Victor called it the perfect love.


It was dawn already. Robbie shoving Nathan from the covers, the boy stumbled toward the chipped basin and began to splash water on his face, trying to wake his sleepy eyes. He raked at the tangles in his hair with the sparse toothed plastic comb, then donned his attire noticing it fit him more snugly of late. The frequent meals were doing their work, and he was becoming less and less the starved lad he had been previously. Nathan left the room without a backwards glance, not wishing to cast his eyes on the ghastly form of the cook as he slowly rose from his disheveled bed.

The kitchen was already springing to life, Nathan could smell the loaves of crusty French bread in the ovens and the porridge which perpetually steamed on the stove top. It made him feel hungry. He was always hungry. He gave the cauldron a good stir, a task which took some muscle work as it was thick and there was plenty. Dipping out a spoonful he decided to add some salt. Now it would be ready for the soldiers breakfasts as they came off duty from the cold watch towers above any time soon. Tiger lovingly rubbed up against him, he could feel the softness of her fur through the holes in his torn black sweat pants. She pushed against him luxuriating in the attention he showered on her. Tiger’s yellow eyes searched his own as she gazed up at him from the floor milling around him in ever tighter circles. Nathan smiled it was a rarity for him to do so.

Nathan had failed to notice Geoff close by, a coffee pot of boiling water in hand as he seemingly, innocently headed for the oven. Nathan uttered a stifled, almost voiceless cry as its contents spilt down his left side, scalding his left arm and torso. Tiger made for the shelter of some dark corner, the water hitting her also. Luckily her fur left her quite unscathed, Nathan could not say the same.

Robbie wondering what the commotion was all about emerged from his room quirt in hand ready to mete out punishment. Nathan was squirming in pain and surprise on the floor, clutching at his arm and decidedly angry with himself for letting Geoff get this one on him. He should have seen it coming. Geoff was apologizing in his insincere voice standing above Nathan, telling him it was an accident, secretly delighting in the pain he had wrought.

“What the hell is going on here!” Robbie screamed shrilly, alarm in his voice, flailing his whip high in the air and bringing it down squarely on Geoff’s back, tearing his threadbare shirt as he did so, and drawing blood on his first strike. Geoff immediately crumpled to the ground, the cast iron coffee pot clanking against the table leg with a loud thud and rolling away across the floor now quite empty.

Robbie pursued his slave striking him repeatedly on his back, face, and arms as Geoff fought to defend himself from the stinging blows. “No one harms my boy you hear!” Robbie was quite beside himself, his face beet red and he was perspiring more than usual with the exertion he was making. “You little son of a bitch if this ever happens again you are gone you hear me. Krosse will take you away. All I have to do is say the word. He always has room for boys like you!” He got his sentences out between each hard hit driving his authority home as the very unfit man fought for breath. Geoff was beaten bloody, his shirt now completely torn from is body, his skin bruised and broken, he was backed up against the wall with nowhere else to go. Robbie was on him unrelenting with the whip.

Nathan and the others watched the cook’s blind fury in horror, they were all paralyzed with fear and incapable of making it stop. Robbie’s anger and stamina were finally exhausted. “Get out of my sight.” He gasped with rasping breath.” Geoff crawled painfully away, sequestering himself in his room. Robbie locking the stout wooden door behind him, then turning to face the others. Both the boy and the girl recovered from their stupor instantly as the cook’s piggish eyes rested on them, taking up what they were doing previously with a start. The girls lips noticeably trembling in her fear. They had no desire to suffer a similar fate to Geoff, and their master when he got this way was very unpredictable.

Robbie turned to Nathan who was gathering himself from the floor, gently taking him back to the privacy of his quarters and inspecting the severity of the burns. He was shaking his head from side to side full of concern, as he removed Nathan's sodden blue shirt to reveal the angry looking red mar on his beautiful boy’s body. Robbie was furious and decided that he would indeed give Geoff to the Doctor for his experiments anyway.

How dare his slave ruin his prize. He was hopeful it would heal and not scar too badly as he bathed the soreness with cool water. Nathan just sat there letting the cook do as he wished, the pain of the burns searing his flesh, his eyes watered and he uttered small indecipherable sounds of pain, almost an animal whimper. “There, there, my boy.” Robbie soothed patting his blond hair and stroking him on the face wiping away his tears. “You will have the day off today, I will get some burn cream from the stores and how about a delicious piece of Robbie’s famous chocolate cake?” Nathan looked up at the man feeling truly miserable, but even then the scheming lad could tell he had Robbie Coltraine right where he needed him to be, and eating out of the palm of his