Sunday, 4 April 2010

Slave of Allah; Amati (fiction) ...well allegory

Slave of Allah ; Amati the lost.
borrowed fiction story, where she is called Clarissa...

"Sometimes the girls in the pen started to chant and someone would get up and dance. I was shocked at first as I saw them dance. Their dance was brazen and revealing and very daring. They moved their hips and made all sorts of sensuous and embarrassing movements. Miro was a wonderful dancer. She swung her hips and shook her chest as no other girl in the pen. She was a natural talent. I blushed as I saw her because I saw in her dance her needs, her desires and vulnerability. Deep inside me I envied her that ability to express herself so openly although I was ashamed on her behalf because she seemed to show everything, her inner secrets.

I was prompted to dance as well but I was stiff as a stick compared to the other girls. I tried to move a bit but I blushed and soon I sat down.

On one of those occasions I stepped out in front of them and this time I let the song take me over. I moved a little freer and I felt a kind of elation as I swung my hips. I lost control for a second and danced. I heard the other girls cheer as I moved.

I was blushing as I sat down because I felt I had acted silly. I had moved without thinking and I was sure I had looked terrible.

Miro looked at me as I looked up after a while. She smiled but looked very sincere at the same time.

'You have it in you,' she said.

'Don't be silly,' I said, blushing.

'I am not,' she said looking serious, 'you have it in you, just let go and you will be the best.'

I didn't answer but her words stayed with me.

I had been in the pens for three weeks and my misery still overwhelmed me although the presence of Miro and the kindness of most of the other girls made it bearable. I was happy having met Miro but I still wanted to be free and come back to my old life, although I knew it was not possible.

One day it all changed. The pens were only for safekeeping of girls waiting to be sold or transferred. There were always slaves coming and going. I was worried they would take me away or take Miro away and separate us but I tried not to think like that.

I was completely unprepared when the day, finally, came. Suddenly the guards slammed the door to our pen open and stood in the midst of us.

'Now, my little cat, it is your turn to be sold,' one of the guards said as he turned to Miro and held out his hand. She was immediately on her feet, an obedient slave girl. He took her by the arm and spun her round. He waved to another guard who brought a heavy iron yoke.

Miro looked miserable but determined as he put the heavy iron on her shoulders and locked it shut around her throat. She obediently held up her hands to be locked in the yoke. The man was the same brute who seemed to be most fond of Miro and I sensed a certain kindness in the way he treated her. He was very matter of factly as he fastened her to the heavy iron yoke but he showed no impatience or harshness. He even smiled at her.

There she stood in the pen locked in a heavy yoke that weighted on her shoulders and cut into her flesh. I was devastated and looked on in horror as I realised what it meant. My beloved Miro was to be taken away from me.

The brute slapped her buttocks and made her move forward. I rose to my feet and stood at the bars and watched as she was led to the big door in the big room. Just before she left she turned a little, as much as she could, and looked at me.

'Bye, Calissa, bye my love.'

'Don't leave me Miro,' I screamed as she walked out of the pens. The guards laughed at my outburst as I sank back on the floor.

I was distraught, I was devastated. I was unhappy and miserable. The only thing that made my life bearable in this hell was Miro and now she had been taken away from me. I cried in anger and frustration.

I had only to stay in the pen for three more days. Master Firul had, finally, decided what to do with me. The guards came for me one day but they did not bring a yoke or even a chain for me. They just put a rope around my throat and led me away. It was another day for them but for me it was the first time in almost a month I had set my foot outside the pens.

My body shivered as I followed on my leash. The men walked in silence. The daylight hit my eyes as we crossed a courtyard. It was lovely to see the sun again, though.

I was led to a building were water came in through a pipe in the wall and poured into a kind of pool in the corner. I was told to wash myself in the water.

In the pen we were sometimes given a little water for washing but it was too little and too seldom for a proper wash. Being able to cleanse my body was heavenly. The water was cold but I relished the opportunity to be clean again.

I felt like a new girl as I stepped out of the pool and for a second I was not aware that I was completely naked in the presence of men.

I was taken to a very light and clean room were I was ordered to kneel on the floor. Although we always greeted the guards in the pen on our knees and legs widely apart, kneeling like that in this room felt extremely embarrassing. Maybe it was because the room looked like a normal room and that I was, suddenly again, a part of the normal world, a world I had re-entered as a lowly slave exposing her body for anyone to see.

I knelt on the stone floor for a long time and at last an old man came in. He had me stand up with my hands on my head while he examined me. His hands pinched me and probed me and almost caressed me. He took my small breasts in his hands, pinched them and pulled at them, he pressed his fingers in my belly and looked in my mouth, examining my teeth. I felt like an animal at a market and in many ways I was.

Most degrading was his examination of my sex. He took his time probing my sex with his dry fingers. It felt intrusive, intimate and very humiliating. I suddenly remembered Miro's fingers and felt tears welling up in my eyes. I suppressed them as well as I could and tried to concentrate on the strange sensation of the man's fingers in my sex.

The thought of Miro made me almost aroused and I couldn't get rid of that feeling as his fingers felt their way inside me.

Finally he withdrew and I was blushing. He turned to the guards.

'She is still a virgin'


That was all that was said. Then I was led away.

I was taken to a small room with no windows. Down the middle of the room run a heavy iron bar raised from the floor some twenty centimetres. I was told to lie down on my back and put my ankles on the bar. Heavy shackles were produced and I was secured to the bar. Then they left me.

I was lying on my back shackled to the bar on the hard stone floor. I was alone and miserable and realised that I was probably to be sold soon or moved to a new place were I could serve as a real slave.

I had no idea what this meant although I could imagine it meant a lot of hard work and possibly that I would have to serve some man with my body. Miro had made me think of other things but now my head was full of fear of the future. I didn't know what would happen to me but I knew it was going to be horrible.

I spent hours at the bar and at last I fell asleep. In my troubled dreams I saw fat men who looked at me and drooled as they saw me. They told me they had bought me and I was to serve them with my body. "

from an unrelated story here.
Amati only ever knew of her life as a slave, but in her dreams she remembered that things had been well different somehow... the sun never used to be so harsh, and of that foreign language sometimes spoken she somehow understood words ... Amati was special and different; Allah had given her hair the color of yellow and made her skin light...(and not dyed her at all dark like the others)

tales of Goreans.

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