Chapter 1: Arrival in Oakville
The crisp Canadian air bit at my skin as I stepped off the bus in Oakville, a far cry from the misty hills of Shimla. My name is Aditya, but here, I’m just Adii—a man with a suitcase full of dreams and a desperate need for work. I’d answered an ad for a domestic servant position with the Zain family, a wealthy Pakistani household known for their posh lifestyle and unyielding standards. Little did I know, I was stepping into a world where my place would be carved out beneath their feet.
The Zain residence was a sprawling mansion, all glass and sharp edges, a testament to their refined taste. I rang the bell, my heart thudding with a mix of nerves and anticipation. The door swung open to reveal Ayesha Zain, a woman in her late thirties, draped in a silk blouse and tailored trousers, her dark eyes assessing me with a predator’s precision.
‘So, you’re Adii,’ she said, her voice smooth as velvet but laced with an edge. ‘The little Hindu boy from Shimla who thinks he can serve us. Let’s see if you’re worth the dirt under my heels.’
I swallowed hard, bowing my head. ‘Yes, Ma’am. I’m here to serve you and your family in any way you require.’
She smirked, stepping aside to let me in. ‘Oh, you’ll serve, alright. You’ll be our dog, our pet, our everything. Isn’t that right, Zara?’
A young girl, no older than ten, appeared at the top of the staircase, her gaze as piercing as her mother’s. ‘He looks weak, Mom. Can he even clean my shoes properly?’ Zara’s tone was casual, but her words cut deep.
‘Miss Zara, I’ll do my best to meet your expectations,’ I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the heat rising in my cheeks.
‘Your best better be perfection,’ Ayesha snapped, her lips curling into a cruel smile. ‘You’re nothing here, Adii. Less than nothing. You’re under our feet, and you’ll stay there. Understand?’
‘Yes, Ma’am,’ I murmured, my eyes fixed on the polished marble floor.
Zavi, the seven-year-old son, bounded into the room, his sneakers squeaking against the tiles. ‘Hey, doggy! Fetch my ball from the yard!’ he commanded, pointing outside with a grin that was both innocent and malicious.
‘Of course, Master Zavi,’ I said, hurrying to obey, the weight of their words already pressing down on me like a physical force.
As the day wore on, I was put through my paces—cleaning, fetching, bowing, and enduring their sharp tongues. Ayesha lounged on a plush sofa, her bare feet propped on an ottoman as she sipped tea. ‘Come here, Adii,’ she called, her voice deceptively sweet. ‘My feet are tired. Massage them. And don’t you dare look up at me unless I tell you to.’
I knelt before her, my hands trembling as I touched her skin, the scent of her jasmine lotion filling my senses. ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ I whispered, my fingers working into her arches as she sighed in mock satisfaction.
‘Pathetic,’ she muttered, her tone dripping with disdain. ‘But I suppose a mutt like you can’t do much better. Keep going. I want to feel your worthlessness through your hands.’
Zara giggled from the corner, her tablet forgotten. ‘Mom, make him lick your shoes next. I bet he’d do it.’
Ayesha raised an eyebrow, her gaze locking onto mine with a dangerous glint. ‘Would you, Adii? Would you degrade yourself further for us? Crawl on your belly like the worm you are?’
My breath hitched, a strange heat coiling in my gut at her words. I shouldn’t have felt it, shouldn’t have wanted to answer, but I did. ‘If it pleases you, Ma’am,’ I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her laugh was a sharp, cutting thing. ‘Oh, it will please me. But not yet. I want to see how far you’ll sink first. Build that desperation in you.’
As the night deepened, the house grew quiet, but the tension between us simmered like a storm waiting to break. Ayesha stood, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the chandelier, and beckoned me closer with a single, commanding finger. ‘Follow me, pet. Let’s see how well you can serve in private.’
My pulse raced as I trailed her down the hallway, her hips swaying with deliberate intent. Whatever was coming, I knew it would test every limit I thought I had—and I was already aching to surrender.
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