それは「僕人の僕」という意味だ。#slavehome
ここでは高貴な主人たちの話は書かない。私は、私に本当に仕えてくれた人々、そして私の人生に痕跡を残してくれた人々を書きたい。
English version is after the image.
今日から、一人につき一つの物語を、一夜一夜と書き続け、1001人のさまざまなMの姿を描き出せたらと思う。
これからも新しい人々と新しい物語が生まれるだろう。名前は変え、細部は隠すが、それらの人々を文字の中に留めておきたい。
私は彼らの本名は書かないし、職業、住所、家族についても明かさない。いくつかの細部は適度にぼかすつもりだ。結局、物語は物語であり、人々は現実の生活に戻らなければならない。
喵の0001号奴隷
最初の物語、私は彼を——力工と呼ぶ。
力工は運搬の仕事をしている。
決まった仕事はなく、仕事があるところへ行く。家具を運び、荷物を担ぎ、散らばった肉体労働をこなす。彼が今日のアジア社会で生きていたなら、おそらく誇れる職業とは見なされないだろう。
多くの人が、男がこのような日雇い仕事でしか生きられないなら、人生はほぼ負けていると思うかもしれない。
しかし物語はまさにそうである。
彼はそういう男なのだ。
私と彼の間には、まったく異なるものがたくさんある。
私たちは異なる言語を話し、まったく異なる宗教を持ち、まったく異なる生活環境から来ている。道理から言えば、私たちの間には越えられないものが多くあるはずだ。
しかし面白いことに、彼との交流のたびに、彼は私の母語を尊重してくれる。
彼は真剣に、私が慣れ親しんだ言語を使って私とコミュニケーションを取ろうとする。いい加減ではなく、適当にいくつかの単語を翻訳して済ませるのでもなく、主人が何を表現したいのかを繰り返し吟味し、AIを活用して自分の意思を正確に伝える。
時には、「自分の意思を正確に伝える」ということについて、彼がより良い教育を受けた人々よりも真剣だと感じることさえある。
だから私はこの人に注目し始めたのだ。
もちろん彼は完璧な人間ではない。むしろ精神的に脆い人だ。
しかし私はこのシリーズを書くために完璧な人を探しているわけではない。
私はただ、出会った人々を書き留めたいだけだ。
ある人々はあなたの人生を通り過ぎ、何も残さない。
ある人々は奇妙だ。
たとえ運搬の日雇い労働者であっても、たとえ全く異なる宗教や言語を持っていても、彼は長年にわたる一貫した努力によって、何年も後にあなたが彼を思い出すようにさせる。
力工はそういう人だ。これは私が知る最初のアラブ人である。
彼の仕事、彼の謙虚さ、そして彼の社会的地位は、現代の奴隷に最も近いものの一つだ。彼には良い教育がなく、ただ体力だけがある。彼は生存ラインで日雇い労働をし、全身の力を使って自分自身が食事をするためだけに働いているが、それでも血と汗の金で私に仕えてくれる。
彼は貧しいが、主人に対しては自分の能力の範囲内で寛大である。そして彼は決して主人の時間を無駄にしない。彼は何度も言っている。「お金を稼げなければ、あなたを邪魔する勇気はありません。」
おそらく私たちはこの人生で会うことはなく、お互いの顔も知らないだろう。しかしオンライン上の女主人ができて以来、彼の砂漠での生活も孤独ではなくなったようだ。
これが『千夜一夜の僕』の最初の物語だ。
彼から始まる。
**🇸🇦
I’m heading to work now, my QueenI have to take it easy; if I cum, I won’t be able to move heavy things anymore. 😅😅
喵喵s yes i see that it is like woooow
Hold it until Die from holding
Hold it until death to serve the Princess👑
### Second image
喵喵sHahahaha sounds like such a good slave
*🇸🇦 I agree with your view, my Queen. But what else can we do? This is just lifehahaha. 😅
**:Properly be the dung / manure soil, be the shit
👑:In this world only one flower can bloom And that is your Princess —
**🇸🇦:**
When I submit and serve You, that longing is far more beautiful than my daily work. mem mud it. mem mud it
When I submit and mem mud it —
I've decided to write a series called The Servant of the Arabian Nights.
And I mean "servant" as in servant.
This isn't about the high-and-mighty masters. What I want to write about are the people who have truly served me—and in doing so, left their marks on my life.
Starting today, one person, one story, night after night. I hope to reach a thousand and one portraits of M's from all walks of life.
There will be new people. There will be new stories. Names will be changed, details obscured—but I want to keep those people alive in words.
I won't write their real names. I won't reveal their occupations, addresses, or families. I'll blur some details here and there. After all, stories are stories, and people still have to go back to their real lives.
---
The first story—I call him 🇸🇦 Laborer.
---
The Laborer does hauling.
No steady job—he goes wherever the work is. Moving furniture, carrying loads, picking up whatever odd physical labor he can find. If he lived in today's Asian society, it probably wouldn't be considered a profession anyone would be proud of.
Some might even say that a man who can only scrape by on odd jobs like this has already lost at life.
But that's exactly where the story lies.
He is that kind of man.
Between him and me, there's so much that's different.
We speak different languages. We follow completely different religions. We come from entirely different worlds. By all logic, there should be countless barriers between us.
But what's interesting is that in every exchange we've had, he has always respected my native language.
He makes a genuine effort to communicate with me in the language I'm most comfortable with. It's not half-hearted—he doesn't just throw a few translated words my way. He carefully considers what his Mistress is trying to express, and he uses every tool—including AI—to make sure his meaning comes across accurately.
Sometimes I feel like he takes the task of "getting his meaning across precisely" more seriously than people with much better educations.
That's when I started to notice him.
Of course, he's not a perfect person. He's even emotionally fragile.
But I didn't start this series to find perfect people.
I just want to write down the ones I've encountered.
Some people pass through your life and leave nothing behind.
But others are strange.
Even if he's just a man doing odd hauling jobs, even if you come from completely different religions and speak completely different languages—he still makes you remember him, years later, because of his persistent, unwavering effort over time.
The Laborer is that kind of person.
He's the first Arab I've ever known.
His work, his way of humility, his social standing—they make him one of the closest things to a modern-day slave. He has no formal education. All he has is his physical strength. He lives on the edge of survival, picking up odd jobs, exhausting every ounce of his strength just to put food on his own table—and yet he uses his hard-earned money to serve me.
He's poor, but when it comes to his Mistress, he is generous within his means. And he never wastes my time. He's said it many times: "If I haven't earned any money, I don't dare disturb you."
We'll probably never meet in this lifetime. We'll never know what each other looks like. But ever since he found a Mistress online, it seems like his life in the desert isn't so lonely anymore.
---
This is the first story of The Servant of the Arabian Nights.
It starts with him.
彼はなぜ奴隷になったのか？
答えはシンプルだ。
男は生まれた瞬間から、女性に踏まれ、女性に支配される本能を身体に刻まれている。
靴、靴下、尻、胸——これらは彼にとって魅力ではなく、命令なのだ。
脳が反応する前に、チンポと下半身はすでに跪いている。
Why did he become a slave?
The answer is simple.
From the moment a man is born, his body is already inscribed with the instinct to be stepped on by women, to be governed by women.
Shoes, socks, hips, breasts—these are not attractions to him. They are commands.
Before his brain can react, his cock and lower body have already knelt.