A bitchy surprise in the bakery

You enter the bakery and look around. It smells like flour and yeast. But the shop is empty. No bread, no cake and no other bakery products. But it is warm and smells tasty. Somebody has used this bakery only a few hours ago and was successful. Maybe one of the studio workers.

You go through a door in a very high room with a very big oven. Here was once the workplace of the baker. Of course most of his products are made by machines and his apprentices, but he also made his own doughs for breads, buns and and cakes. If you find the right ingredients you could use this bakery to make great things. At least you will not have problems with hunger anymore.

While you go around and look at the machines, which are still here and in good conditions, you nearly stumble over somebody who was crawling behind a big table. It is a white, skinny, blonde girl with expensive looking designer clothes. You recognize her immediately. It is Stacy Henningford. The wealthy spoiled brat you met only few minutes ago. She looks angry and to your surprise she has a small bag of rey grist in her arms.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she asks surprised, "do you follow me?"

"Yes of course, because I enjoyed company that much," you answer sarcastic, "I am here only for the reason I thought the bakery could be an interesting hideout."

"Aha," mumbles Stacy uninterested, "well, it isn't. Here is only a hard bench with a single blanket. I hoped for something to eat but these bastards from Studio left only a bit of yeast a package of salt and pepper and three bags of whatever this stuff is."

"That's flour," you explain, "the most important part of bread and every other bakery product."

"Don't be absurd," replys Stacy "flour is a white powder. This stuff is grey and gritty."

"it is called rey grist," you tell her, "It is coarser then the typical wheat flour you talk about. But for bread it is good enough. And salt, yeast and water are everything you need for bread."

"I don't believe this shit," replys Stacy with crossed arms, "I know bread and refuse to believe that it is made by something stupid like this. Can you proof that?"

You don't answer and pass her a large bowl and a long wooden spoon from one of the work places. She watches both irritated and seems to not know how to go on.

"Put the grist in the bowl and fill it with water. Then add salt and if you want a bit pepper. Crush the yeast and then mix everything until it one single thick dough. Let it rest for a day or so, put it in a form you like and then leave it in the oven until it seems to be ready."

"Hell, what's wrong with you guys?" cryes Stacy angry, "how can anyone remember all this. That's much to complicated."

"It isn't," you reply out of patient, "you are just to dump for the simplest works."

"Fuck it," growls Stacy and throws the spoon against the wall, "in my parents mansion we had an own private cook. The best I could do was fried eggs. I don't know how to make bread. And I don't have to know it. I hate this silly dough."

"Not everyone is such a spoiled brat like you," you tell her, "but it is your choice. You can either learn to take care of yourself or starve in here. Not that I would care. I know how to cook."

"You know?" asks Stacy suspicious, "and why the hell didn't you told that earlier? Great than you can cook for me. You are perfect for such lower services."

"Sure, as if I would do anything for you," you say sarcastic, "why don't you ask your daddy if he sends you a Pizza? I have better things to do than babysit an arrogant, useless crybaby."

Out of sudden Stacy gives you a slap against the face. It seems that you gone to far in her opinion. But Stacy is still a weak little girl. You look at her more in surprise than in pain and caressing your cheek impressed. You didn't thought she would be tough enough to hit someone who is three times as strong as herself. Maybe you underestimated her. Or this is your chance to show this arrogant, reckless brat her place.

"Don't dare to talk to me like that!" Stacy yells at you, "never forget that I am the femdom in this shitty rathole. And I say what will happen. Now go on your fucking knees and apologize you pathetic beggar. Or you will regret it bitterly."