 |
|||
|
|
Ch 25
Epilogue
The Sheik sat on a divan with Aisha, nude, kneeling at his side. Manu approached them; he knew that despite his efforts at self-control, anger must be written all over his face. To tell the truth, he did not much care at this point.
The sheik gestured him to a divan next to him and, at a further gesture, Aisha served him tea.
“Stand between us, Aisha,” he commanded.
He then addressed Manu:
“I know what you lost today; also I know much more than you think about your relationship with Lila.”
Manu nodded, wondering how much of this was true.
“I know that you tried to let her escape,” he continued, “despite knowing full well what you risked.”
Manu nodded again, in silence.
“I don’t think you can serve me in your present position anymore.”
Manu again assented silently.
The sheik took a deep breath, “I wish to honor your years of faithful service though. I shall make you a present, if she is willing.”
He tilted his head, questioning.
“I shall give you Aisha, if she chooses to go with you.”
Surprised, Aisha was about to answer, when, with his hand, the sheik stopped her.
“Yes, Aisha, you may go with Manu, or stay with me and, maybe, be sold to someone else,” he paused.
“If you stay with me,” he continued, “all shall be as it was. Except that I shall have a different executioner.”
“You can also go with Manu, as my parting gift to him,” he paused for effect. Aisha shuddered, there had to be something.
“But before he takes you with him,” he paused again, “he shall cut off your clitoris, in front of me.”
Manu blanched on hearing this. What kind of a choice was that?
Aisha, on the other hand, although pale, did not seem as disturbed.
“I shall go with Manu sir, if you permit it.”
Both men looked at her, although only Manu seemed surprised at her choice.
She followed him to the basement. The Sheik would join them in a few minutes.
“Why?”
Aisha smiled, “You are a good man Manu, I couldn’t ask for a better master.”
“But the price…”
“Quite a few of the girls from the horn of Africa have had this done to them, when they come of age,” she shuddered, “It is not such a big deal, really.”
The Sheik sat on a chair, near the table that would hold Aisha. At her request, she herself prepared a tray with the instruments Manu would need. These were simple: A pair of needle nose pliers, a razor sharp scalpel (Aisha shuddered when she placed it on the tray) some swabs with disinfectant, and a small pot of Vaseline. Nearby, a brazier of coals burned, in it, an iron with a thin tip, to cauterize the wound.
When all was ready, Aisha climbed on the table and placed her legs on the stirrups. Manu fastened her legs at the thighs and calves with leather straps and also attached her hands to the table with leather manacles.
Once thus immobilized, he cleaned her nether regions carefully with the disinfectant. He could not fail to notice her shivering and knew that it was not from cold. She however remained silent, although her breathing, fast and irregular betrayed her fear.
With his finger he pulled back her hood, exposing the small nub. Aisha screamed for the first time when he grabbed it with the pliers, pulling on it. She screamed even louder when with a single swoop of the razor sharp blade, he cut it off; and when he touched the red hot iron to the bleeding wound, her scream rose to a blood curdling shriek.
Then it was over.
A few days later, the two of them, master and slave, or perhaps something more, climbed into the Air France jet that would take them to Morocco.
The End.
|
|
|