MY MASTER MADE ME DO THIS WITH HIS DOGS

Episode 1

"No, sir, please…"

The words echoed in her head, twisting her stomach into a tight, painful knot. "Oh, don't tell me you don't know that these dogs, they have desires like humans. Just make them feel good, and that includes sleeping with them."

Ah! Sabina couldn't believe her ears. She stared at Mr. Don, hoping she had misheard him, hoping this was some kind of cruel joke.

But his face remained calm, his lips curling into a small smile as if he had just asked her to sweep the floor or wash the dishes.

Her mouth went dry, her hands gripping the edges of her dress. Her fingers were trembling. The air in the room felt heavy, pressing down on her chest.

The golden light above them shone brightly, making everything look very beautiful—too beautiful for the horror she was living. The room was spotless, designed with elegance. Large white tiles gleamed under the glow of the chandelier.

A delicate scent of expensive perfume floated in the air, mixing with something else: the faint, musty smell of the animals lying nearby. The dogs, four of them, were big and well-fed, their fur smooth and shining under the light.

They lay on cushioned beds, their tails flicking lazily. One lifted its head and looked at Sabina, curious but calm. Another yawned, stretching its long legs before settling back down.

They didn't know. They didn't understand. But Sabina did. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. This isn't real. This isn't real. It can't be. But it was.

She wanted to run. Her legs screamed at her to move, but she couldn't. She sat frozen on the wooden stool near the door, her body stiff with terror. The room suddenly felt too bright, too open, like the walls were made of glass and the world was watching. She turned back to Mr. Don.

A whisper fought through her dry lips. "Sir, I… I can't."

His smile didn't fade. "You can, and you will."

Sabina felt her stomach twist violently. She shook her head, gripping her dress tighter as if it could anchor her to reality. "Please, sir, I… I came here to work as a maid, not for this."

His expression darkened, the lightness in his voice vanishing. "You think you have a choice?"

At that moment, Sabina realized that her whole life had been about surviving. She had walked in the sun carrying heavy loads just to feed her mother and daughter.

 She had left home believing she was making a sacrifice for a better future. But this… ha! This was beyond anything she had ever done or imagined before.

The dogs shifted on their beds, one of them sniffing the air. She swallowed hard, her hands now damp with sweat. She could beg, she could cry, but she already knew it wouldn't change anything. So she did the only thing she could. She nodded slowly, lowering her eyes. "Give me two days, sir."

Mr. Don raised an eyebrow. "Two days? For what?"

Sabina forced herself to breathe, steadying her voice. "I just… I just need to prepare myself. It's not easy."

He looked at her for a moment, then let out a small smile. "Fine. Two days. But after that, you do what I say." He turned and walked towards the door, opening it with ease. "Rest. Think. But don't forget, this is not a request."

And then he left.

Episode 2

Sabina was a young mother who lived in Tanzania. She had a little daughter, Amina, and an old mother who was very sick.

 Every morning, she woke up before the sun, stepping outside into the cool, fresh air, selling mangoes and anything she could lay her hands on just to feed her family.

Her home was very simple, made of mud bricks with a thin roof that rattled when the wind blew too hard. Inside, her mother lay on a thin mattress, coughing softly, her body weak from illness.

 Sabina would sit beside her, holding her hands, whispering words of comfort, but she knew love alone could not buy her mother's medicine.

Amina was just six years old. She would come running to her, barefoot and full of energy. "Mama, I'm hungry," she would say, rubbing her small stomach.

Sabina would smile, touching her daughter's cheek. "Wait, my love. I will make something." Then she would step outside to the cooking area, where a small fire burned under a blackened pot. Some mornings there was enough. Other mornings, she would be left boiling water, hoping the little flour she had would be enough to fill their stomachs.

She worked hard every day, washing clothes for the village women, selling fruits at the market, doing anything she could to make money.

 But no matter how much she worked, it was never enough. Medicines were expensive, school fees were very high, and food… Ha! Some days they barely had anything to eat.

At night, she would sit outside staring at the moon, listening to the distant sounds of laughter from other houses—families with full bellies, children who would go to school the next day without worry. She wanted that life for her daughter, Amina.

Then she heard about the jobs in Saudi Arabia. Women from the village had gone before her. They sent money home, built new houses, and gave their families a better life. "It is good work," they said. "You clean, you cook, and they pay you very well."

Sabina thought about it for days, lying awake at night, staring at the wooden ceiling, listening to her mother's soft breathing. Could she really leave? Could she leave Amina behind? But what choice did she have?

One evening, she sat beside her mother and spoke softly, "Mama, I want to go to Saudi Arabia for work."

Her mother's tired eyes opened, searching Sabina's face. "It won't be easy," she whispered.

Sabina nodded. "I know, Mama."

Her mother sighed, reaching out to hold her hands. Her fingers were thin and frail. "If you must go, my child, go. But promise me one thing: you must be very careful."

Sabina swallowed hard, forcing a small smile. "I will, Mama. I promise."

That night, after putting Amina to bed, she sat in the quiet, white darkness, listening to the wind outside. She had made her decision. She would go—for Amina, for her mother, no matter what awaited her on the other side.

Sabina was very excited to travel to a new city. She had never left Tanzania before, never imagined stepping onto an airplane, never thought she would see a land so different from her own.

Her journey started with a long, bumpy bus ride from her village to the capital city, where she would board the plane. She pressed her forehead against the window, watching the dry fields and mud houses disappear behind her, feeling both nervous and hopeful.

At the airport, everything was bright and new. There were people everywhere, rushing, talking, and laughing in languages she didn't understand. She held her small bag tightly, repeating in her mind: "This is for Mama. This is for Amina. This is for our future." The plane ride was unlike anything she had ever felt before. Floating above the clouds, she kept looking out of the window, thinking, Maybe this is what a better life looks like.

When she arrived in Saudi Arabia, the air was different—hot and dry, pressing against her skin like a heavy blanket. The city was filled with tall buildings, wide roads, and bright lights that never seemed to go out. She was taken to a small office where she met the family that had hired her.

The woman looked neat and serious, dressed in fine clothes. She spoke softly but firmly. "You will take care of our home," she said. "Cook, clean, and help with the children." The man standing beside her barely spoke. He only nodded, his dark eyes scanning Sabina from head to toe before turning away.

At first, everything seemed fine. The house was huge, with golden chandeliers, cold marble floors, and large, shining windows.

The children played and laughed, the kitchen smelled of rich spices, and the woman gave her clear instructions.

Sabina sent a message home that she was safe, that the house was big, and that the job was good.

But soon, things changed. The smiles disappeared, and the kindness faded. Sabina's days became endless work, from dawn until midnight. She was always scrubbing floors, washing clothes, preparing meals, and running after the children.

If she sat down for even a moment, the woman would snap at her, "No resting! You are here to work!" Her hands grew raw from scrubbing, and her back ached from carrying heavy baskets of laundry.

She ate only after the family had finished, and sometimes there was barely any food left for her.

Then the real nightmare began. Sabina started noticing how the man of the house watched her. At first, she tried to ignore it, thinking maybe she was imagining things.

But then one evening, when she was sweeping the hallway, she felt a presence behind her. Before she could turn, a hand brushed against her back. She froze.

He chuckled. "You work hard, don't you?"

She forced a nervous smile. "Yes, sir."

His fingers lingered on her shoulder. "Maybe you should come to my room later. I can teach you how to relax." 

3

Sabina held the broomstick tightly, her heart quickening. "My lady will be looking for me," she whispered.

The man's face hardened. "Then go."

From that day, everything changed. If she greeted him, he ignored her. If she cleaned well, he pointed out a small stain and said, "You are so lazy."

The children, who had once been friendly, started mocking her, throwing food on the floor and laughing as they ordered her to pick it up. His wife grew colder. Her voice was sharp now. "Stu--pid girl! You don't work fast enough! You are useless!"

Sabina felt like she was walking on broken glass every day, never knowing what would happen next.

Then, one night, Sabina woke up to a soft creak. She blinked in the darkness, her heart heavy. A shadow stood at the door of her small room. "Who is there?" she whispered.

The light from the hallway spilled onto his face. It was the son of the house owner, the man's 32-year-old son. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Sabina sat up quickly, her voice shaking. "Why are you here?"

He smiled, moving closer. "I just wanted to see you."

Her stomach twisted. "Please leave now."

He smiled, tilting his head. "Why are you so scared? I'm not like my father."

Sabina's fingers dug into her blanket. She had heard the whispers before. Other maids in the neighborhood had spoken about this—the men in these houses always thought they had power over the maids. She swallowed hard. "If you don't leave, I will scream."

The son raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Don't worry, I will go." He left, but she knew he would be back.

Sabina kept working, pretending everything was fine. She sent money to her mother for medicine.

She sent money for Amina's school fees. Back home, her mother was very happy. "Thank you, my child. You are saving us." Amina laughed on the phone. "Mommy, will you bring me a dress when you are coming home?"

Sabina forced a smile. "Yes, my love. A beautiful princess dress."

She wanted to tell them the truth—that she was being treated like a sla--ve, that she was being harassed every day, that she was scared all the time. But she couldn't.

She couldn't break their happiness. So she swallowed her pain and kept going. Every night she slept with her door locked, afraid of footsteps in the hallway. She worked in silence, avoiding the man's eyes, avoiding the son's lingering stares. Her body was exhausted, her spirit was breaking. Deep inside, she knew it: she had to escape, or she would not survive.

One day, Sabina's employer, Mr. Don, called her into a special room. It was not one of the rooms she cleaned. She hesitated at the door, wiping her hands on her apron, her heart beating faster than usual.

"In," he said, his voice calm.

Sabina stepped inside carefully. The room was large, bright, and spotless, but something about it felt strange.

 The air smelled different—not like cooking or cleaning products, but something raw, something wild.

She looked around, her eyes landing on rows of glass cages filled with birds, shelves lined with small boxes, and a strange wooden crate in the corner. Mr. Don stood in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, watching her closely.

"I want to show you something," he said.

Sabina nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."

He walked to the front section where colorful pigeons flapped their wings. "I breed birds," he said. "Some of the finest ones in the city." Sabina nodded again, unsure why he was telling her this. Next, he moved to a row of fish tanks, the water bubbling as golden fish swam lazily inside. "These fish are imported. Very expensive."

Sabina's fingers tightened around the edge of her apron. She didn't understand. What did any of this have to do with her job? Then he walked towards the wooden crate, lifting the latch with a slow, careful movement. Sabina's body became tense. A low growl rumbled from inside.

Four large dogs stepped out, their coats shiny and well-groomed, their eyes dark and alert. They padded onto the tiled floor, sniffing the air. Sabina took a small step back. Mr. Don turned to her, smiling. "These are my best," he said proudly. "Strong and well-trained dogs."

Sabina's breath came faster now. Something felt wrong. "What does this have to do with my job, sir?" she asked, her voice quieter than she meant it to be.

Episode 4

He turned, looking at her. "Patience, young lady." Sabina swallowed, her hands feeling cold despite the warmth of the room.

He walked around the dogs, stroking one of their heads. "You've been good, Sabina. You work hard. But now it's time for you to do more."

She frowned. "More?"

He nodded. "From today, these dogs are your job."

Sabina blinked. "I… I don't understand, sir."

He sighed as if explaining something simple to a child. "You will feed them, clean them, take care of them."

A heavy weight lifted from Sabina's chest. That was all? She could do that. She let out a small breath of relief and nodded. "Okay, sir."

And then he said it. "But it's not all. You will sleep with them."

"What?" Sabina's stomach twisted.

Mr. Don tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. "You heard me."

Sabina shook her head, stepping back. "No, no, sir. I can't."

He chuckled. "Oh, you will, my dear. You see, these animals have needs, just like humans. They have desires."

Her body stiffened. The room suddenly felt smaller, the walls pressing in on her. The dogs were still standing there, calm, unaware of what was being said. Her lips trembled. "Sir, please, I came here to work as a maid, not for this."

His expression changed, the amusement fading. His voice turned sharp. "You think you have a choice?"

Sabina's heart pounded so hard she looked at the door, but he stepped forward, blocking her path. "No one leaves my house without my permission," he said. "And if you refuse, you will regret it."

"Okay, sir. I… I need time," Sabina said. "Please, sir, just give me time. Two days, that's all I ask for."

"Fine. Two days. But after that, you do what I say."

As soon as Mr. Don left and shut the door, Sabina sat on the floor, feeling lost. Her hands were shaking, her mind was spinning. She was very confused.

The dogs lay on their soft beds, their tails twitching in their sleep. One of them stretched, letting out a quiet sigh. Another lifted its head, staring at her with dark, lazy eyes before resting again.

They didn't know; they didn't understand what had just happened. But she did. Her chest felt tight, as if the walls were closing in on her. She pulled her knees to her chest, resting her forehead against them.

What was she going to do? She had no way out. The door was locked, the windows were too high. The house was surrounded by tall gates, guarded day and night. And even if she escaped, where would she go? She had come here for a better life.

She had left home with dreams of earning money, sending it back for her mother, giving Amina, her daughter, a future. She had imagined herself working hard but with dignity, building a way for her family to live well. Not this.

This was something else, something dark, something that twisted her stomach into knots and made her skin crawl.

Tears filled her eyes, but she forced them back. Crying would not save her. Crying would not open the door or take her home. She thought of her mother and her daughter, her throat tight with emotion.

She had promised to return with gifts, with happiness, with enough money to make their struggles disappear. But how could she go home now? What would she tell them? Would she even make it out alive?

A sharp knock on the door made her jump. She held her breath, her body frozen. But no one entered. The knock was a reminder: two days. She had just two days to decide her fate.

Sabina couldn't stop thinking about the two days she had been given and what to do. Time felt like it was slipping through her fingers, each second bringing her closer to something she could not bear. She had no passport, no money, and no way to escape through the locked gates.

Then, suddenly, an idea came to her. She faked an illness, pressing her hand against her stomach and bending slightly as if she were in pain. When Mr. Don called her later that evening, she clutched her belly and whispered, "Sir, I'm not well. I… I have my period. It's very painful."

Episode 5

"How long?" he asked.

"Two weeks," she answered quickly. "Two weeks? Impossible."

"It will not take that long, sir. Sometimes it takes that long. I feel very weak."

He didn't look convinced, but after a moment, he waved his hand. "Fine. Get well soon, but don't think this will change anything."

Sabina lowered her head. "Thank you, sir."

That night, she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, thinking. This was only a delay, not an escape. She needed something more. Over the next few days, she started paying close attention to everything. She watched the guards, noting their shift changes. She listened to the noises in the house. And most importantly, she started building trust. She acted obediently. She smiled when needed. She worked without complaint. Slowly, they stopped watching her so closely.

Then one evening, while washing dishes, she turned to Madame, the lady of the house, and said softly, "Ma'am, the kitchen supplies are getting low."

Madame barely looked at her. "Tell Don."

The next morning, when Mr. Don came into the kitchen, she lowered her eyes and spoke carefully. "Sir, the food supplies are almost finished. I'll go buy more."

He raised an eyebrow. "You? Why not the driver?"

Sabina wiped her hand on her apron. "I know what we need, sir. I can go quickly and return."

He looked at her for a long moment, as if trying to see into her mind. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out some money. "Fine. Don't take long."

Sabina's fingers trembled as she took the money, bowing her head. "Thank you, sir."

She turned and walked towards the door, her feet feeling like lead. Every step was heavy with fear, but she kept walking. Out the door, through the yard, past the gate, and then she ran. Her heart pounded in her chest as she moved as fast as she could, not daring to look back, her hands gripping the folds of her dress, her breath sharp and fast.

Finally, she saw a small building with men in uniform: the authorities. She stumbled inside, gasping for air, her hands shaking as she grabbed the counter. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. "Help me."

As soon as she said, "Please, help me," Sabina fell to the ground. Her body was weak, her legs no longer strong enough to hold her. Everything around her blurred—the voices, the footsteps, the bright lights above. Then there was nothing.

When she woke up, she was lying on a small bench inside an office. A fan spun lazily above her, and the smell of old papers filled the air. A man in uniform was standing nearby, watching her closely. Another officer, a woman, knelt beside her, holding a glass of water. "Drink," the woman said softly, offering it to her.

Sabina's hand trembled as she took the glass. The water was cool, sliding down her dry throat. She swallowed hard. "What happened to you?" the officer asked.

Sabina opened her mouth, but no words came out at first. The memories crashed into her like waves, too heavy, too painful. Then, finally, in a broken voice, she spoke. She told them everything—the beatings, the insults, the hunger, the way they had treated her like she was nothing. She told them about Mr. Don, about the dogs, about what he had demanded from her. Her voice cracked, her hands clutching her dress as she spoke, but she didn't stop. She pleaded with them. "I don't want the money anymore. I don't want to work here. I just want to go home."

The room was silent when she finished. The officers exchanged glances. The woman reached out, squeezing Sabina's hand gently. "You are safe now," she said.

For the first time in months, Sabina believed it.

It took just a few days to arrange everything. The authorities helped her buy a plane ticket and gave her back her passport. They even handed her some money—two million Tanzanian shillings. It wasn't much, but to Sabina, it felt like a miracle. When she boarded the plane, she couldn't stop the tears that streamed down her face. This time, she wasn't crying out of fear. She was going home.

The journey felt long, the hours dragging as she stared out of the window, watching the clouds below. Her heart was restless. Would her mother be okay? Did Amina still remember her?

Then, finally, the plane landed. The air in Tanzania was warm, carrying the familiar smell of earth and cooking fires. Sabina stepped out of the plane, her legs weak and her heart pounding. As she walked through the small airport, she looked at the crowd, her breath caught in her throat.

Then she saw them. Her mother, standing with her cane, her eyes filled with tears. Amina, running with her little arms stretched wide. "Mama!"

Sabina dropped her bag and fell to her knees, opening her arms as Amina crashed into her. She held her daughter tightly, pressing kisses onto her hair, breathing in the scent of home. Her mother knelt beside her, touching her face gently, as if making sure she was real. "You came back," she whispered.

Sabina nodded, with tears streaming down her cheeks. "I came back, Mama."

She looked at them—the people she had fought for, the reason she had survived. She was home. And she was alive.

Sabina's story is not just hers. It belongs to thousands of women across the world, young girls who leave home with dreams of providing for their families, only to find themselves trapped in suffering. Many will never return. Many will never be heard from again.

We must listen to their stories. We must speak for those who cannot. We must protect the women and girls still suffering in silence. If you know someone considering work abroad, tell them the truth. If you hear of abuse, report it. If you have a voice, use it.

Because Sabrina survived, but many others will not. Let's not forget them.