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.
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.
Alert?
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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