The Human Doormat
WARNING: This is extreme. I know, most of my stuff is pretty extreme. But this is uber-extreme. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!
The Priya Mansion gate sounded. Priya was about to walk into the house. There was sufficient warning of this, so the five other slaves and I quickly improvised a plan. “You cover her feet.” I said, pointing to the smallest of the slaves. “And you help her with her boots. We both will cover the right, and these two will cover the left.” Every day since we were hired, she was disappointed with the jobs we did, the respect we showed for her entrance, but by golly we were ready for anything today.
Priya stepped in. One of the slaves leapt for her feet and quickly took off her boot. She stepped her tired, sweaty feet on the second slave and wiped herself on his face and body. With her eyes barely open, she tossed her car keys to the left. I dived forward to catch them in the air, as did the other slave covering the left. He managed to catch it just before it hit the ground. Unimaginable punishments would ensue if any of us allowed her things to drop to the floor.
She took her bag off her shoulder and threw it to the right. The other two slaves dived to catch her school bag before it hit the ground. I felt a moment of divine perfection, for we had done the job! With utmost perfection, too. I smiled and enjoyed the moment, the reward for perfect planning, but saw that Priya was frowning at the slave underneath her feet.
“Did you just touch my legs?” Priya asked. The slave, who bore her weight on his face, took back his hands and kept them under his back. “Ewww. Your ugly hands touched my divine legs. I feel like I stepped into a puddle of poop.” Priya followed up with a foot wipe vertically across his face and then to his chest. “Now your body surface is all uneven. God! I can’t believe your incompetence. Look at the other slaves. They all had much tougher jobs to do. You just had to lie down, stick out your tongue and ensure that my feet were clean.”
“But they are clean now, Goddess.” The slave cried.
Priya shook her head. “I don’t even care if they are clean now. You have single handedly made my foot washing experience so unpleasant.” She stormed away towards her storage room.
“Priya, I will be a better doormat for you. I promise. Please try me out again.” He cried, but Priya was busy in the other room.
The five of us slaves frowned at him. Everything was going perfect, until he screwed up the simple job- lie down, lick the bottom of her feet. The simplest, easiest and best job of them all. But the imbecile had to bring his hands up and touch her divine legs. He deserved the worst possible punishment.
Priya came back into the room carrying an extremely large, heavy device in her hands. She made for the plug-point, stuck the plug inside and powered it on- it was a gigantic chain-saw! “Come here!” she ordered the slave.
“Please, Priya. I’m sorry. I won’t ever touch your legs on duty. Never ever for the rest of my miserable life.” The slave cried, falling to Priya’s feet. “Please forgive me.”
“You expect me to forgive you?” Priya asked. “Your job was to be my human doormat, but you basically groped my legs. That doesn’t even count as something a slave can be forgiven for.”
“Priya!” The slave begged.
Priya caught his hand and twisted it behind his back. “These hands of yours. They are getting in your way of being a good doormat for me.”
“They won’t anymore, Priya.”
“That’s right they won’t.” Priya said. She turned to me and the other slaves. “I want four of you to catch hold of his limbs.”
We crawled towards the trapped slave and caught his hands and legs. I caught his left hand. Priya crushed down his shoulders, raised his hand and guided the chainsaw right to the ball of his shoulder. Drops of fresh red blood spattered all over the mansion. As she guided the chainsaw deeper, bits of the slave’s skin and bone flew apart. Less than a minute of the carnage passed, after which the slave’s hand separated from the rest of his body and came into my hands.
I shuddered at the sight of what I was holding in my hands- another live human’s hand!
The doormat slave lay unconscious on the floor, blood oozing out of his shoulder. “You! Dispose of that hand.” Priya ordered me. I disappeared from the scene, holding the slave’s detached left hand.
She turned on the chainsaw again, cut through the slave’s other hand and had us dispose of the organ. Priya’s eyes then fell on the slave’s leg. “What does a human doormat need a leg for?” she said. She caught the slave’s lifeless legs and ran her electric chainsaw through them, dangerously close to his delicate area. Soon, the slave was completely detached of all his limbs.
“No hands and legs.” Priya said, wiping sweat off her forehead. “This guy is finally a good doormat, don’t you think?”
We slaves nodded, picking up his legs from the carnage.
“Good.” Priya said, walking away into the kitchen. “Clean up my mess, slaves,” she ordered. “Then throw him in front of my door when he wakes up.”