Sneha is 32 years old woman. In her final year of college, she fell in love with one of her seniors. Their family didn’t agree to the marriage. They didn’t have any choice but to flee. They got married and shift to another city with the help of a friend. Life was going pretty well for the last decade. The couple was planning on having a baby cause her husband had just got a promotion. But one day, on his way to work, he met an accident and expired on the spot.
Sneha was never good at academics. In the twelfth board examination, she only scored forty-seven percentages. Her husband didn’t have a decent job. He made just enough to survive. They were pretty content with their life, enjoying it to the fullest with whatever they had. Alas, destiny had something else in mind for Sneha.
Sneha is a typical small-town girl. She had grown up in a conservative family with her religious, kind, and submissive nature. It turns her on when someone asserted his dominance over her. Although, she’d never had to experience extremes dominance. She needed a place to stay and also a source of income. Her inexperience in dealing with this ruthless world was about to cost her a lot. She would often think of returning to her home, but it was rationally impossible. One thing she knew for sure, her body, and her holes were the only assets she had.
She barely knew anyone who could help to find a job or a cheap rental place to stay. She talks with some colleagues of her husband, but they weren’t helpful at all. Soon all her savings ran out. She’d only one week stay left at the apartment she was living in with her husband. Fortunately, the greengrocer would often visit the society to sell vegetables. He recommended she should check out the nearby area known as Muzaffarpur. He also told her to meet Abdul, who runs a grocery store in the area.
Muzaffarpur was an area; filled with the Muslim community. There were mostly young kids, middle-aged or old age men, and women because the teens or students would move out for studies. The greengrocer also told Sneha to visit Abdul in a Burqa and pretend to be Muslim. Sneha appreciated him but said that she would find another way.
After two more days of helplessness, Sneha takes the greengrocer’s advice and visits Abdul regarding the matter. Abdul – a religious man; couldn’t oppose helping a Muslim woman in need. He takes her to a cheap house available for rent. The house was the property of a meat merchant named Ghaffar. Everyone would call him Ghaffar Bhai or Ghaffar Bhai Jaan. Ghaffar was out of the station on that day. Abdul convinced Ghaffar’s wife to let Sneha stay. He can talk about the financial arrangements once Ghaffar returns.
Abdul was suspicious about Sneha’s identity. Because of her unusual accent. She had no experience of communicating in Urdu. Abdul didn’t say anything to Sneha about it. Sneha explains to Abdul how she lost her husband and how she is in dire need of money. She is ready to take a job if he can find her one.
Abdul’s problem was the whole Muzaffarpur itself. In Muzaffarpur, people didn’t want to see a woman work at some decent post. Women of Muzaffarpur would mostly stay indoors. In exceptional cases, women could be a maid, a beggar or a harlot. Sneha was hoping for a job like a receptionist or a saleswoman.
Abdul told Sneha to get rest. He promises her to visit in the morning to sort out her problems. She agreed.
The next day, Abdul knocks on the door. Sneha was wearing her Saree at that time and had all her doors and windows closed.
“Who is it?” She asked, standing by the door.
“It’s I, Abdul… please open the door, Salma,” Abdul responds.
“Just a minute, Abdul Bhai Jaan,” She asked him to wait.
Sneha had told Abdul that her name is Salma. She didn’t have time. She put on the Burqa and hijaab over her Saree itself before opening the door.
“Come inside,” She welcomes Abdul into her home.
The house is small. It has one hall attached to the kitchen and a small bedroom with attached bathroom facilities. She doesn’t even have a couch at home but only two chairs. She offers a chair to Abdul. After Abdul gets seated, she sits on the other chair as well. Abdul looked down at her legs and caught a glimpse of Saree under her Burqa. His suspicion grows even further, but he keeps mum.
Sneha starts to tell her about the situation with elaborate details except for the fact about her religion. Abdul and they have a thorough conversation about what sort of work she would get in Muzaffarpur. If she were to go outside Muzaffarpur, she was on her own. Ultimately they conclude that other than the job of a maid, she won’t get anything in Muzaffarpur.
Sneha was so pretty that she could get a job as a receptionist or saleswoman anywhere in the city. But her problem was her submissive nature. She would feel threatened by men if she only looks at them. They’d make her feel uncomfortable. It was as if she had the phobia of dealing with stranger men. But in Abdul’s case, it was different. Abdul was no taller than five feet three, and the way he would talk to her would not cause her to panic.
“Abdul Bhai, can you lend me some money?” She asked at the end.
“How much do you need?” Abdul asked, “I haven’t even seen your face. How can I be assured that you won’t just disappear with the money?” He added.
Sneha lifts her hijab and slides the veil over her head elegantly.
“You’ve helped me in this situation Abdul Bhai. Why would I ever think of cheating on you?” She cooed with a pitiful smile.
Abdul had seen her face before. He knows the truth.
“You’re not a Muslima, are you?” Abdul asked.
She nods her head in slow motion, smiling meekly.
Abdul feels a surge of sensation pooling up between his legs.
“You’ve got me in big trouble,” Abdul said in an apprehensive tone. That’s his second response. The first response was from his body, one specific organ, to be precise.
“What, what’s the problem?” Sneha got concerned.
“Ghaffar Bhai isn’t going to like it if he found out the truth about you, and he might cause some problems to me as well. After all, I own a small grocery store, and he’s a well-established businessman.” Abdul explained Ghaffar’s Hinduphobia.
“We can still keep it a secret, couldn’t we? You’re not thinking of ratting me out, are you Abdul Bhai?” Sneha demanded.
Abdul takes a few deep breaths.
“No,” He said, “But stop calling me Bhai or Bhai Jaan. We will work something out when Ghaffar comes back…” Abdul was miffed.
Sneha felt relaxed. Abdul was her last ray of hope. She trusted him like his own family members, although her real family was useless to her.
“Abdul Bh… Abdul, I need some money. If you can lend me, I’ll pay you back as soon as I can…” Sneha reminds him about the issue.
Abdul didn’t have any money to offer her. Not that he would’ve helped her even if he had it right in his pocket. He’s constantly feeling an urge to grab Sneha by her neck, pin her against the wall, and get done with it. But Sneha was five feet seven and had a very beefy physique. Especially her thighs were the beefiest.
“There is one easiest way for you to make a lot of money in a short time. But I’m not sure if you’re going to like it,” Abdul said, raising a brow.
“What is it? Please tell me,” Sneha said, even though she had a hunch.
If her husband were alive, Sneha would’ve slapped Abdul right then and there without letting him speak another word. But circumstances weren’t the same. Sneha was desperate for money. She would be lying to herself if she said to herself that she didn’t relish the idea of getting under a Muslim man. ‘Once I make enough money, I’ll leave this place for good.’ She said to herself. She’s contemplating the idea after all.
“I understand, this job is out of your comfort zone, but you can get paid as much as ten to twenty thousand rupees for just one day’s work.” Abdul decides to take a long way instead of a shortcut.
“That doesn’t sound plausible to me. Are you sure about it?” Sneha asked. She couldn’t believe a streetwalker can make so much money; unless she is a teenage girl or a virgin. Sneha had no idea about how the life of a hooker is; or how much they get paid. Imagining herself to be a hooker, she could feel herself getting wet and swell between the legs.
“You are right. A woman can’t get paid more than two to four thousand for a night, but in Muzaffarpur, men love to desecrate a Hindu woman, especially who’s married.”
“But…” Sneha spoke in the middle.
“I know your husband is… dead, but no one knows the truth but me.” Abdul stares into her eyes with a wicked smile.
Sneha looks down, embarrassed to learn about her price tag.
“Ten thousand rupees is a lot of money for a single day,” Abdul emphasized the price for her, “Think about it, call me when you are ready. Okay? Even if you don’t want to do it, just let me know.”
He got up from the chair and turned around to leave.
“Abdul, wait,” Sneha stopped him.
“How soon can I get a client?” Sneha implores.
“In a day or two,” said Abdul, sitting back on the chair.
“What do I have to do?” Sneha asked.
Now that Sneha was ready for it, Abdul can get straight to the point.
“First of all, I’ll need some of your pictures to show some people I know. They’re interested, as well as looking for someone like you, and they’re willing to pay high as well. If they like your photo, I can ask them to book a hotel room. You’ll have to be in the room for few hours.” said Abdul.
“Where do we click the pictures, right here?” Sneha said, looking around the garbage-like house. She frowns.
“You need the client soon, right?” Abdul cocked her neck sideways.
“Okay,” Sneha nods, “Let’s click the pictures,” She stood up.
Sneha takes off the Burqa and straightens her Saree.
“Is this good enough?” She asked about the Saree.
“Ahm…” Abdul clears his throat, “You should take it off,” He suggests.
Sneha looks at him in disbelief.
“You still have your Mangal sutra and your Sindhoor and bangles? Put everything on which makes you a Hindu woman but your clothes,” He added.
“But, Abdul, how can you expect me to be naked in front of you?” Her voice was breaking, almost as if she was about to weep.
“This is the way,” Abdul said, shaking his head looking at her with pity.
“I can’t, How can… I’m not ready, Abdul.” Sneha stutters.
Sneha is now feeling conscious about her womanhood. She becomes aware of the lustful ways of this world. Any man looking at her could want her to reveal her body. Abdul wasn’t any different than those men out there.
“Salma… or whatever your name is,” Abdul rants.
“Sneha,” Sneha mumbles.
“Whatever, I’ll call you Salma. It’s better, you want to sell your body to some stranger, and you’re concerned about a photoshoot? Really? I think you should take your time and call me when you’re ready.” He continued.
Abdul was furious about Sneha’s tantrums.
“Can, can I click my selfies on my own and share pictures with you?” Sneha makes the last attempt to save herself from the humiliation.
“No,” Abdul shrieks, “You have to look like you have a pimp. If they find out you’re doing everything on your own, they’ll never pay you much.” Abdul lied to her face with conviction. Sneha bought it.
Sneha told Abdul to wait in the hall while she puts on her Mangalsutra and stuff and takes off her clothes. Before that, Abdul looks in her bedroom and tells her to put on a clean bedsheet. Sneha locks herself in the bedroom. The moment she was alone, she couldn’t stop herself from crying. She takes off her clothes while holding back her choked voice. She puts on her Mangalsutra, Sindhoor, and then the bangles. ‘It’s going to be over within a couple of months,’ She tells herself. Sneha cleans her face with soap and water, wipes it dry with a towel. There’s no large-sized mirror in her room where she could see herself. Sneha reaches between the legs and finds her bush back to its grandeur. Her armpits were the same. Her pubes were wet, which was shocking for her. She was contemplating; why she would get wet in a situation like this.
Abdul knocks on the door.
“Salma, I don’t waste my time…” Abdul calls out.
Before Abdul could knock again, Sneha opened the door and stood on one side, covering her melons and her hymen with her hands. She’s looking at the floor; she stayed still.
“Sit,” Abdul commands.
Sneha gets seated on the bed, still covering her assets without looking back at him. Abdul takes out his phone and gets ready to click pictures.
“Look here,” Abdul said, she did.
He clicks a few pictures.
“Don’t make a face like I’m forcing you to do it. Remove your hand,” Abdul comments and then yanks her hands off her bosom.
Sneha tries to smile and fails at it miserably.
“Don’t grin, either,” Abdul instructs.
Abdul clicks a few pictures of her in various positions. Many close-up shots as well. Then she asked her to get in a doggy position, with her head on the bed and her hands spreading her cheeks.
Sneha wanted to tell him that she won’t let anyone have her hindquarters, but she didn’t.
Abdul clicks a few pictures of her tight leather cheerio. He had an urge to put his finger into it. Without her consent, he attempts. She flinches and screamed.
“What are you doing?” She mourned.
“You’ve never done it before, have you? I mean in your…”
“No, and I won’t,” She was determined.
“But someone could pay more than thirty thousand to defile your backdoor for the first time, If you put it on an auction,” Abdul said promptly, regretting that he shouldn’t have told her that.
“You got the pictures?” Sneha gnarls.
“Yes, but we still haven’t talked about our partnership,” Abdul said, putting the phone back into his pocket.
“You can have half of whatever I make,” Sneha makes him a decent offer covering her body with the bedsheet.
“Oh, no… It’s not the money that I want,” He says.
Sneha understood what he wanted. She’d already made it so far. She didn’t have an option.
“Can you do it some other day?” She appeals.
Abdul shakes his head in denial. He then brings out his manhood which was abnormally big and thick for a man of his size. Sneha gets in a doggy position again, for she didn’t want to kiss him. Within the next five minutes, she changed her mind. She was enjoying the experience. It made her forget about the worries. Abdul even urged her to blow him, and Sneha didn’t even protest. They don’t exchange a single word during the session, but Abdul takes her in every position he can think of and pull off.
The next day Sneha dressed as Salma went to Abdul’s store. She waits until there’s no customer nearby. Salma asked Abdul if he found anyone. Abdul starts to laugh at her.
“Oh Allah, how innocent you are… I was never going to help you find a customer. I just wanted to have you for myself. I won’t help you until I get bored of you. And remember, I’ve all your pictures.” Abdul was interrupted by another customer who just arrived at the store.
Salma stood there in shock. She had tearful eyes, but no one could see her cry due to the veil. She needed the money. Abdul wasn’t going to help. The only thing she could readily sell was her smartphone. Salma went to an electronic shop and sold her phone for four thousand rupees. At least now she had some money in her hand. She was passing by Abdul’s store on her way back home.
“Salma Begum, let’s meet at your place tonight… for dinner,” Abdul whoops. The people start to stare at her.
She stopped, looked at Abdul, and nods her head. And leaves.
Abdul started visiting her every night. He will stay for up to three to four hours, and when he can’t have it anymore, he would leave Sneha alone. Sneha got used to Abdul and his member. She would enjoy it as much as Abdul would, but she didn’t want to live a life like this for the rest of her life. Sneha would try to persuade Abdul every time to help her out. Abdul never took the bait. One week went by like this.
“Ghaffar is back in town,” Abdul told Sneha, putting on his pajama, “He’ll come here asking for his rent.”
“What am I going to do when he asks me for money?” Sneha expressed her concern.
“What else can you do? Just offer him your twat,” Abdul scoffs.
“Abdul, please… I’m serious. You don’t want Ghaffar to kick me out of this place, do you?” Sneha said in a very seductive voice.
“I’m serious. Ghaffar is an animal, but good for you. He never takes a woman twice unless and until you’re a teenage girl. Ghaffar is a sadist and a pedophile. He’s infamous for taking Hindu women forcefully. If he asks for money, tell him you don’t have it. And hope that he finds you as attractive as I do. If everything goes down as I think, he’ll take you forcefully and then just let you go with a warning. You’ll have at least one more week to pay him back.” Abdul dressed up.
Sneha listened to him patiently, and she wished that whatever happens, it’ll be better if he doesn’t kick her out of the house. Abdul put his skull cap on and pinched on her melon. Sneha wails in pain; he laughs at her.
“Make sure Ghaffar doesn’t find out you’re a hooker. I mean, let him think he’s desecrating you. If he gets suspicious that you’re a hooker. It’ll be your last day in Muzzafarpur.” Abdul fled after the warning.
Ghaffar was a forty-two-year-old tall Muslim man. He was well-built and at least six feet tall. Unlike most men of Muzaffarpur, Ghaffar used to keep himself clean shaved and wouldn’t wear traditional outfits much either. It’s hard to tell by just looking at him if he was a Muslim or not. Except for his circumcision, obviously.
Sneha was anxiously waiting for Ghaffar. So finally, she can be done with this for a few more days. Sneha still had three thousand rupees which were left; after the expenditure. The room rent was also three thousand rupees. She had to make a decision. If she were to give up the money then, she may never be able to get out of this infernal trap.
Holding the rupee notes, Sneha was contemplating what to do when someone knocks on the door. She knew it couldn’t be anyone but Ghaffar. She asks him to wait. She stashes all the money where no one could find it and goes to open the door for Ghaffar.
Sneha, dressed as Salma, welcomes Ghaffar into the house. Salma was covered entirely in Burqa, but still, Ghaffar takes a look at her top to bottom as if she were standing naked in front of him.
What Salma didn’t know was the fact that before coming to her, Ghaffar met Abdul. Abdul told Ghaffar about her situation, and Ghaffar became furious about why Abdul would bring a tenant who doesn’t have a penny to pay. Although, Ghaffar had no history of physical violence with a man. Abdul was very dreadful of Ghaffar’s anger. He told Ghaffar that Salma isn’t a Muslima but exceptionally pretty. Ghaffar immediately understood the motive of Abdul behind helping Sneha.
“If I were to say, take her… she won’t go to the police or any other relatives which she has?” Ghaffar asked Abdul after his explanation.
“Not at all, trust me Ghaffar Bhai Jaan. Also, I’ve never banged someone as tight as her in a very long time. Trust me, Bhai Jaan. It’ll be worth your time and money.” Abdul said, now relieved.
Ghaffar already started thinking about her twat. If Abdul felt she was tight, Ghaffar was one and half times longer and thicker than him. Abdul also told Ghaffar to keep this knowledge to himself, for she might flee Muzaffarpur if the secret comes out.
“I’ll decide that when I try it for myself,” Ghaffar snarled, Abdul shakes his head in agreement.
“Where’s my rent?” Ghaffar growls at Salma.
“I don’t, I don’t have it yet, Ghaffar Bhai… I’ll get you the rent before the end of this week,” Salma pleads.
“No, no, no. That’s not going to happen on my watch. You may have fooled my wife, but you can’t fool me. Who was the one who brought you here? It was Abdul isn’t it?” Ghaffar steps closer to Salma.
Sneha was apprehensive and skeptical about whatever Abdul told her about Ghaffar. She was still hoping that maybe, she might get away with pleading without any incident. But her twat would beg to disagree. Looking at Ghaffar had triggered some button inside her which she never knew existed. She felt like if he’d ask her to be his slave, she might say ‘YES.’ But, Abdul told her not to behave like an adulteress.
Salma thinks of asking Ghaffar to take a seat or whether he would want tea, coffee, or anything. She didn’t even have the luxury of offering any such beverages.
Salma and Ghaffar have a back and forth for a while. Every single exchange made Salma believe more and more about what Abdul told her. From praying to god to save her dignity, she went on to praying to Ghaffar on her knees. Salma even holds his feet. Ghaffar knew she has no choice.
“Show me your face,” Ghaffar rumbles.
“Sure, Ghaffar Bhai Jaan…” Salma says, revealing her face to him. She was not wearing any Sindhoor or mangalsutra because she thought Ghaffar still doesn’t know her religion.
Ghaffar likes her pretty face and appreciates Abdul for bringing Sneha to her.
“Where’s your husband? What happened to him?” Ghaffar asked if she could come up with a fake husband’s name on the spot. Abdul has told Ghaffar that her husband is still alive, but they’re separated.
“Ab… Abbas and I don’t live together anymore. He isn’t in this city anymore.” Sneha was about to say Abdul cause that’s the name that came first in her mind.
“If you’re going to live… under my roof, you will have to pay for it in advance. If you can’t pay up the money, I’ll have to procure it using the ways I deem fit,” Ghaffar said, peering at her face over his bulge. It was conspicuously too high above his crotch.
“I don’t understand, Bhai Jaan… what do you mean?” Sneha notices his schlong twitch twice. She feels warmth between her legs.
“Let’s go to your bedroom,” Ghaffar commands.
“No, Ghaffar Bhai Jaan, please, don’t… I’m like your little sister, please, don’t…” She begged.
“Even if you were my sister. I wouldn’t have let you get away with my money, you twat…” Ghaffar growls.
Sneha keeps begging, for she knew not to give up easily, or it might go south. Ghaffar grabs her by the neck and drags her into the bedroom. Ghaffar did it with her three times. Sneha was sore and hurting for the first time in her life.
“You’ve got one more week,” Ghaffar apprised and left.
Sneha couldn’t move at all. She starts to think. Sneha needs to take steps to figure a way out of this. She couldn’t wait for Abdul to change his mind and help her out. There’s only one way out. She has to go through with it.
Sneha had very little money to herself. She had to use it wisely otherwise, for she will remain a kept woman of Abdul and Ghaffar endlessly. Salma goes out of the house and wanders around the Muzaffarpur in the hope of finding someone who could give her the learning she needed.
Sneha reaches the mosque and sees many ladies going in with their kids, husbands, or relatives. She notices many young kids were sitting on the steps. They looked malnourished but still happy. She was standing close to those kids and heard them talk about other men of Muzaffarpur disrespectfully. They were exchanging remarks in abusive language.
She waits for one of the kids to be alone, and soon one of them leaves the congregation. She follows him till he reaches a much open area where it’s not packed with people. She stops him and offers him a hundred rupees note. The thirteen-year-old kid accepted the money.
“What do you need?” The kid asked, pretty smart for someone his age.
Salma asked him if he knows where is the bordello. If he could show her where exactly it is and tell her more about how it functions.
“You want to be a wh*re?” Kid asked as if a mature man would.
“That’s not any of your concern. Could you tell or not?” Salma was miffed.
“I can, but a hundred bucks won’t do.” The kid was a bastard.
“How much do you want?”
“Five hundred,” Kid said as if it was his regular charges.
Salma couldn’t believe a kid could have such an attitude. She showed him a five hundred rupees note. She extends it to him, but when he tries to take it, she pulls it back.
“You can have it, but only after you tell me everything you know,”
The kid starts to regurgitate a cocktail of valuable information. Muzaffarpur had one luxurious hotel, governed by a man named Aadil Hussain. Aadil would choose all the women. Sometimes women wouldn’t even reveal their faces to anyone, not even Aadil. But they’ll have to settle with half the payment than what they would get otherwise. There was a torture room in the basement, but everything was consensual. Tortured women get paid heavily; Aadil would make sure of it. Aadil was an astute man to run a business like this without drawing Police or public attention. He knew if only one woman decides to go against him. It may lead to the downfall of his empire.
The kid takes Salma to the location. It looked ordinary from the outside. There were so many rich people standing outside chatting with each other while smoking and drinking. She notices even Ghaffar was there. The kid points to a man who was in his late thirties.
“He is Aadil. If you want to get in. It’s only him who can let you in.”
Salma paid the five hundred bucks to the kid and went back home. She slept for the rest of the afternoon, for she had to stay up all night. When Abdul leaves her alone, she cleans up herself and, went to the hotel.
When she reached, she discerned there were more security guards than in the morning. She tried to go in from the front door but got stopped. The security guard asked the purpose of the visit. She told him about her interest that she needs to meet the manager tonight itself. The guard calls the security in charge, who leads her inside the hotel but from the backdoor. He tells the main door is only for the clients.
The security guard ushers Salma into a small office that was exquisitely beautiful. He tells her to wait and not to touch anything. The office had four paintings of naked women on all four walls. A huge bundle of money was resting on the table. It looked like it’s at least fifty thousand. She thinks of stealing it and just run away. Alas, if only she had the courage.
Aadil comes inside the office after making Salma wait for fifteen to twenty minutes. Aadil sits in his chair and looks at her top to bottom. He keeps staring. Salma didn’t understand why he is waiting.
“Take off your clothes,” Aadil speaks, irritated.
Salma stands up hurriedly and removes her Burqa clumsily except for her Niqab and hijaab. Aadil stares at her tits and then at her twat as with his X-ray visions. He gestures her to turn around with his finger. She complies.
“So you want to keep your identity a secret?” Aadil asked.
“Yes,” She mumbles.
“Lip service?”
“In the darkroom,”
“Sodomy?”
“What? No. Never.” She couldn’t understand the term at first.
“Hmm… take a seat,” Aadil commands, “I can offer you as high as two thousand rupees for every client. That’s as high as I can go.” He proposes.
“It’s good enough,” She reacts promptly.
“Great. What’s your name?”
“Sabiha,” She knew she would need a stage name.
“Ok, Sabiha… now you need to convince me to hire you. If you can do it, I’ll give you five thousand in advance, and you can join the job right away or whenever you feel like it.”
Salma couldn’t believe that she was getting offered an advance. She didn’t think the concept of advance payment may exist in this world. It made her recognize how much Aadil cares for all those women working under him. She didn’t even disrespect her as Abdul and Ghaffar did.
“Come here,” Aadil breaks her chain of thoughts and turns his chair around to his left. Salma gets up, walking around the desk until she was standing in front of him. Aadil leans closer to observe her twat.
“I think you’ve quite new to this profession?” He looks up at her.
Salma nods in agreement.
“Customers are going to wait in line for that lady part, you know… wait till the words get out. There’s a fresh, tight cherry in the market.” Aadil praised.
Salma smiles under the veil. Neither Abdul nor Ghaffar have made her feel special in a way Aadil just did. She felt desired. It makes her feel good about herself. Salma wholeheartedly became ready and willing to let Aadil do whatever he wants to do. For the first time, she wanted to do it with a Muslim man with her consent. She was yearning for it.
To be continued.