Sunday, 7 October 2018

Money is in The Mouth of the Lion (final pt.)

Click Here for Part 1

I had finished eating the meal I was served – a small bowl of rice accompanied with a huge tray of roast fresh fish that was garnished as though it was going for its wedding – and almost finished the bottle of white wine that had come with it, when Senator finally arrived. He was accompanied by his PA and two other men, who had to be security detail, judging by the way they were dressed.
I jumped up from my seat and turned on my 1,000-watt smile. He gave me a hug, then stepped back to examine me. I felt my tummy fluttering with butterflies as he did, hoping he liked what he was seeing.

He wasn’t looking too bad himself. A tall, dark-skinned man whom I knew to be in his mid-fifties from the research I had done, but could pass off as a man in his early forties. He had the tall, aristocratic look some moneyed Hausa men have about them, with a nicely chiseled handsome face to go with it. The only thing that spoilt his whole look was the small pot belly he sported despite his average body stature.

“What is your name?” he queried. His voice sounded like music to my ears. You know the way upper upper-class Northerners talk.

“Kira, sir,” I answered, fluttering my eyelashes a bit, trying to dial up my sex appeal.

“Ah, Kira, beautiful name, but I haven’t heard of it before. Where are you from?”

“I am Yoruba, sir. Actually, the full name is Shakira, I shortened it to Kira.”

“Haba, why spoil such a beautiful Muslim name. I will be calling you Shakira, no Kira nonsense.”

I laughed. “No problem, sir.” Call me anything you want, anything at all.

Without more ado, Senator led me into what I felt must be the master bedroom of the apartment. It was quite big too, half as large as the living room, with a huge bed and a sitting area the size of a normal living room. Its furnishing, like the living room, was of a white and gold colour tone.

The Senator took off his babariga, he had knee-length shorts beneath it, and sat on the bed. Then he beckoned me to come sit beside him. I did with no hesitation.

“Shakira, Shakira. You must know that having the good fortune to cross paths with me, your life will never be the same.”

I nodded.

He smiled. “You just be a very good girl and satisfy me in any way I want and you will enjoy me.”

“Senator, I will do anything you want,” I enthused, jumping to my feet. “As you are seeing me, I have mad skills. There is no style I cannot perform for you. You will enjoy me very well too.”

He smiled again. A wry smile, this time.  He got up, stood behind me and began to unzip my jumpsuit. “You will do anything I want?”

“Anything…” I repeated, then stopped. Kira, you get sense so? my brain asked me. Which one is anything. I quickly amended, “Anything you want me to do in bed.”

Fully unzipped, my jumpsuit pooled to my feet and he began caressing my exposed back. “Lovely skin,” he complimented. “Indeed, you are a beautiful woman, and I believe you when you say you are very good in bed. But… I have had a lot of beautiful women, many of them very skillful in the art of lovemaking, beauty and regular sex no longer excite me. I am more interested in something some people might label ‘weird’ or ‘extreme’.”

My eyes widened. What did he mean? I was getting confused. “Weird, how?”

“He stopped caressing me and pulled me to the bed to sit with him, then looking right into my eyes and observing every reaction on my face, asked, “Have you heard of sadism?”

Sadi-what? I shook my head quickly.

“You don’t know people they call sadists?”

This time I nodded. “Wicked people,” I said quickly.

He threw back his head and laughed. “That’s erroneous. A sadist is a person who takes pleasure in another’s pain. I prefer to call it a fetish though. I derive sexual pleasure when I inflict physical pain on women. It is the only thing that gives me satisfaction these days.”

I was shocked. Sadism? Physical pain? What had I gotten myself into?

“The other day at the wedding, do you know why you caught my attention?”

I shook my head.

“During the fiasco between you and one of my bodyguards, the way you were screaming, the expression on your face – an exquisite mixture of pain and frustration – it turned me on. I knew you would be a good candidate for my romps.”

The senator continued to closely examine my face and seeing fear growing on it, he added reassuringly, “Don’t worry. I always take care of my women extremely well and you will not regret indulging me.  Just tell me how much you’d like me to give you for this one night. Let’s start from there.”

Fear disappeared from my mind and face at those words. I spouted the first big amount that came to my head. “Five million naira.”

“Done.” He did not even hesitate.

He picked up the phone at his bedside and began talking into it. I heard him telling the person on the other end to do a quick transfer. He paused and turned to me. “Your account number?”

I became a ‘stammerer’ and had to repeat the digits that made up my account number three times.

“You will get the money shortly,” he said when he was done. “Now… shall we?”

Five million! I thought giddily. I will almost go mad if that money enters my account.

Senator took off his shorts and was completely naked. I followed suit, taking off my pant and bra. We both got into the bed and my heart began beating fast. But just then, my phone beeped.


I jumped out of the bed and picked it up. It was indeed an alert. An alert of 5 million naira! I had never seen so many zeros on an alert before. Like I had thought I would, I almost went mad.

“Thank you, Senator, thank you, thank you sir!” I felt like dancing there on the bed, but held myself.

“You’re welcome, Shakira. But come back into bed. Come on.”

I dropped the phone and rejoined him in bed. As I lay down, he pulled open the drawer at the bedside table and took out something. It was a woven red leather whip. I blinked. So this was what I had been terrified about; a simple whipping. Me that was whipped a million times when I was small without compensation.

This is a small price to pay jor.

Senator flipped me around so that l was lying on my stomach and began whipping me. He started gently, it did not even hurt at all. I smiled. It’s even sweet sef. But then he began to go harder and harder, bringing the whip onto the same spot on my buttocks each time. I felt tears drop from my eyes as the stinging pain grew with each stroke of the whip. I did not know when I opened my mouth and shouted in Yoruba, “Ah! Mo ku o.” Then I begged. “Pleaasse, please it’s okay.”

But he did not stop. He entered me then, having become aroused by my tears and plea for mercy, and as he rode me, he continued to deal the strokes of the whip to my buttocks. As his strokes within me got faster, so did the strokes of the whip. Soon, his shouts of ecstasy mingled with my own shouts of pain.

I tried to block the pain with thoughts of the huge amount in my account, but even that was not enough to distract me from the agony.

Ahhhhhh, to make money is not easy o, I thought to myself.  That proverb that says money is found in the mouth of the lion did not lie at all. Kira, shey money will not kill you like this?

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