It’s with great pleasure that I’m announcing that my household is looking for a slave. Do you have honey blonde hair with strawberry lowlights and platinum highlights? (Dye jobs need not apply.) Are you a size six with DD cups and skin the colour of alabaster? (No plastic surgery will be accepted either.) Do you have green eyes that turn blue when you’re angry? (No contact lenses. You get the idea.) Were you born on a cold and rainy morning in November 1990 (but not too cold—maybe just 3 degrees C?) Then you might just fit my requirements. Congratulations!
My girlfriend and I require a slave who’s willing to move to Kazakhstan on her own dime, no references or initial meetups allowed. You must love us before you meet us or you’re a fake sub. We have a long, imaginary list of applicants, but if you’re lucky enough to be chosen, you’ll spend your days breathing in the gorgeously polluted air of our country and taking in the beauty of its dying villages.
You’ll prepare our breakfast at 4 am before doing the cleaning and laundry. You’ll do this all naked, obviously, because we need a view that distracts us from the local beer shortage. Yep, Kazakhstan is totally festive. We swear. If you wanted to live in a better nation, you shouldn’t have become a slave, now should you?
We’ll generously let you do our shopping in the afternoons. You may wear a sackcloth dress while doing so because your booty is ours alone unless we need to sell your body for beer. Our seven monster-kids arrive home from school at 13:00, after which you will fulfil the role of parent. We realise that it’s common for parents to want good babysitters, but it’s more important to us that you’re sexy and bisexual with the right shade of hair.
If you earn any free time during the day, you will spend it licking envelopes for our multi-level marketing business and cooking meth, which we’re forced to sell because our real job is owning a multi-level marketing business.
At the end of the day, you will have no-limits bisexual slave sex with my girlfriend and I as well as a queue of random strangers who we definitely won’t charge to fuck you. Look, the meth industry isn’t all that lucrative right now, and how else will we pay for your sackcloth? Hmm?
It goes without saying that your life savings will be used to buy us sex toys and pseudoephedrine. This ensures that you can’t afford a flight home when you realise you don’t want to be Walter White’s Super Nanny.
Once you’ve fucked 20 resentfully-sober villages, you will proceed to your chamber to do the household darning. If you want us to buy new socks, you’ll be allowed to keep a paying job on the side as long as it doesn’t detract from your daily duties.
This position will give you access to the household’s personal trampoline, so we believe it’s worth it. Our imaginary ex-slaves always say we work them hard, but that their 1 am bouncing sessions totally make up for it.