Bought as a domestic slave by a Young Master

The message arrived through the app at eleven in the morning: "Looking for a domestic slave for this weekend. Mop floors, sweep, cook, iron, and foot massages. If you accept, I'll pay you well and treat you like what you are. Answer now, fatso."

The idea of truly serving, of being a domestic slave, excited me. I answered yes immediately. The guy sent me the location: a modern building in the upper-class neighborhood of the city, just ten minutes by bus from where I was. He wrote clear and cold instructions:

"Dress in old clothes. Ragged shorts, torn sleeveless shirt, and barefoot. Take the bus that passes by your corner. Get off at the plaza, in front of the building, and wait for me sitting on the yellow-painted bench. Don't talk to anyone. Get here fast, beast."

I put on the clothes he ordered: faded gray shorts torn at the hem, a black sleeveless shirt that clung to my fat belly and had several holes. I left my house barefoot. The tile floor was freezing, but as soon as I set foot on the sidewalk the hot cement burned my soles. I walked to the bus stop feeling every pebble, every piece of broken glass, and every pothole. The bus, a small old one, arrived five minutes later, full of people staring at me weirdly. I stood the whole trip, with my bare dirty feet, enduring the pain.

Ten minutes later I got off at the corner of the plaza. My feet hurt, I had pebbles stuck between my toes, and the soles of my feet were black and dirty from the whole trip. With difficulty, almost limping, I reached the yellow bench and sat down, head bowed, a little nervous and excited. Not three minutes had passed when I saw a slim young man approaching, with a well-trimmed beard, dressed in dark blue suit pants, an impeccable white shirt, and expensive shoes that shone in the sun.

He stood in front of me and looked me up and down with a cold smile.

"So you must be the slave Beast I ordered. You obeyed my first command well. You now work for me, you belong to me, and you will be my servant. I don't want complaints or mistakes. I am your king, and I want to be treated as such. Obey, slave, and you will be rewarded," he said.

He spoke with elegance like someone used to luxury, with an energetic, dominant, arrogant voice that immediately made me feel inferior, like an Alpha who knows he's in charge.

Without being ordered, I got up from the bench immediately. Without a second thought I knelt right there in the middle of the plaza, in front of everyone, and kissed his feet over his shoes. First one, then the other, slow and respectful. The anxiety to prove myself submissive and helpful and to thank him for choosing me as his slave made me not care about anything, and kneeling like that was what he wanted.

"Good pig," he murmured in that calm, superior voice. "Get up and follow me, let's go to my house. You're going to spend two days with me."

I followed him in silence, behind him, wi...