Story: Twins

by Jackie J

Chapter one

Twins, identical twins well physically but concerning personality? One would need a magnifying glass to physically separate Isabelle and Isabella, from early childhood they were like peas in a pod but their personalities quickly diverged. Through school Isabelle was studious attaining the highest grades whilst Isabella did just enough yet still gained high marks. University was no different Isabella making the most of the social scene with Isabelle more often found in the libraries rather than the bars. Both having graduated careers in law were pursued and in their late twenties two fine lawyers they made. Isabelle devoted herself to working with the disenfranchised whilst Isabella took to defending the most questionable of characters.  Despite their diametrically opposed outlook on how their skills should be deployed Isabelle and Isabella remained close.  Whilst Isabelle lived a quite existence Isabella grew more wayward, bordering on arrogant, a fun-loving party animal with an increasing reputation for promiscuity.

It was no surprise when Nazeem came on the scene both were attracted to this handsome and rich Middle Eastern heir to the Mudullha fortune.  Isabella’s rather shallow perspective considering his looks and wealth whilst Isabelle found him charming and considerate.  Both were beautiful young women, Isabella was fun and exciting to be with Isabelle was thoughtful and generous of spirit. Nazeem living and working in London and free from the conservative shackles of his family especially his somewhat pious mother, found the company of the vivacious fun-loving Isabella liberating.  Soon they became a couple to be seen around the exclusive nightspots of town. Isabelle wasn’t jealous, was she? No, she was genuinely happy for her sister, wasn’t she?

Engaged within six months all looked set for a happy every after. Nazeem’s family however, especially his mother, were not happy, not happy at all.  Nazeem’s father, who did not enjoy good health, had met the twins on a number of occasions during visits to his surgeon in Harley Street.  He liked them both, why wouldn’t he? Both girls pretty and enjoying successful careers, under normal circumstances either would make a good match for his son. It was the cultural clash, based in London not an issue but back in Nazeem’s home country?  Nazeem’s father, with failing health, knew it would not be long before his son would have to return to take over the business based back in the Emirates what then for his western wife? Would she cope with the culture shock? Life would be very different for her there.

Nazeem understood his father’s concerns but perhaps not just how ill he was, all that was way off in the future wasn’t it and he was adamant that Isabella was to be his wife with or without his families blessing. 

 Nazeem’s family attended the wedding with the exception of one, his mother, Haajar. She feigned some illness offering her blessings through gritted teeth via video link. Haajar vowing to end this ill-conceived marriage by her disobedient son whatever that would take. It had been planned that Nazeem was to marry his cousin Habeeba; it had been arranged and agreed by the family’s years before, not to this promiscuous fun-loving western bitch. 

Two years followed of what could only be described as wedded bliss. Nazeem made regular trips back to the corporate headquarters in his country and travelled extensively around the world on business but was always on the first plane back to be with his love. Isabella was no less besotted with her handsome and attentive husband.  Although happily married Isabella had not sacrificed her independence and when Nazeem was away she continued a very active social life.  Haajar, Nazeem’s mother, considered Isabella’s behavior disrespectful and whorish, not in keeping with her culture and traditions at all.  Her Westernised son not seeing that this was an issue fueled his mothers loathing of his pretty wife even more. 

Into the third year of their union the trips by Nazeem became more regular and longer in duration, Nazeem keeping the failing health of his father from his wife. Nazeem knew the time was drawing near when he would have to return to his homeland to take over the business and the words of his father now resonated with him.  Isabella would have to leave behind the liberal life of cosmopolitan London that she enjoyed. Could she cope with the culture shock? Life would be very different for her there. Knowing his mothers and indeed some other members of his family’s hostility to his marriage and Isabella, Nazeem had not sought to bridge the cultural gap but now he would have no choice?

A table booked at their favorite restaurant, sat at the very table he had proposed to his pretty wife, Nazeem poured wine and smiled. Isabella looked gorgeous, she always did. Long flowing blonde hair and a figure that regular visits to the gym kept toned to perfection. Could he really ask Isabella to hide such beauty from the world, to be veiled, she would have no choice? 

“You are very quiet this evening Nazeem, is there something on your mind?”

Nazeem took a breath and sat his glass down on the table.

It’s my father, I haven’t said anything before but he is not well, not well at all. I am being pressured to sell up in England and return home, to run the business and take over being head of the family. The doctors have told us he may only have weeks perhaps a month at the most.

Isabella reached over and clasped her husband’s hands.

“O Nazeem, I am so sorry, why did you not say sooner about Aabis?”

Nazeem looked into Isabella’s eyes.

“Because, well because Isabella I know you like London and you were not comfortable when we visited my family after we were married, you have not been back since? I was hoping this day would never come that we would never have to leave our home here in London and move to the family home in the Emirates.

The consequences of such a move washed over Isabella like an icy chill. Haajar, Nazeem’s mother, she was a witch and hated Isabella and she would hate her even more when, as Nazeem had explained and tradition dictated, being the wife of the head of the family, Isabella would become Mistress of the home that was currently hers?

Nazeem and Isabella sat and talked discussing various options but came to the conclusion that if Nazeem was to fulfill his destiny and duties, of being head of the family and chairman of the Mudullha Corporation, they would have to move. Isabella could not deny Nazeem his birthright.

Haajar had also known what was coming and had been plotting and scheming for some time to ensure her status within her home would not be sacrificed to a western slut when her husband passed away. Over the last year whilst Nazeem was visiting, on his increasingly frequent trips to the family’s business head quarters, she would slip into conversation what his pretty young wife was doing whilst he was away subtly inferring she may stray, sowing seeds of doubt concerning her fidelity. Nazeem had no worries in that regard, had he? His mother had never liked Isabella and Nazeem just laughed off her snide comments but the possibility of his wife having an affair, whilst he was away, had been placed in his mind by his wicked scheming mother.

Nazeem was away again and Isabella had met up with her sister Isabelle and her new love Joe. Joe Reader worked alongside Isabella at her chambers and she had introduced him to her sister some time before. The relationship between Isabelle and Joe had been a well-kept secret up until now, Isabella not even sharing this news with her husband. It was now out in the open after months of clandestine meetings including regularly using Isabella’s apartments and even her car for their secret, covert trysts.  

After the strange story told by Isabelle about some weirdo recently stalking her and Joe The main discussion around table was the impending inheritance and the probability that Isabella and Nazeem would be relocating to the Emirates in the near future. Isabelle was excited for her sister convincing her that it would be fine in that she knew of many Westerner’s who lived and worked there. Of course, they were located in the capital not in the more traditional outer regions of the country. The Mudullha corporations head quarters were in the city of course but the sprawling Mudullha residence was not, situated some eighty miles into the arid wilderness.

The flight was uneventful and Nazeem’s driver made light work of the journey through the desert from the airport to the Mudullha residence. The air con denying the dusty oppressive heat beyond the blacked-out windows of the limousine.  The staff attending the gates to the outer courtyard lowered their heads in deference and the car swept up the driveway to the main door.

A shrouded figure emerged from the house, removed Nazeem’s luggage from the trunk and quickly disappeared back inside.

Nazeem stepped from the car and smiled at the sprinklers playing lazily on the pristine lawns and flower beds, a marked contrast to the bare dust bowl of a landscape that stretched endlessly beyond the outer walls of the Mudullha’s mansion.

Nazeem had come to know the look on his Mothers face, what was wrong?

“Come inside my son, I need to speak with you.” 

It couldn’t be true, but the pictures did not lie, could not lie? Emotions of anger, desperation, disbelief and sadness filled Nazeem’s tear filled eyes, why, why?

Nazeem’s mother chortled.

“I warned you about that woman, western women are all the same, harlots, without shame.”

Nazeem was distraught and stared at the picture of his wife in their own home hugging and kissing Joe Reader a barrister at Isabella’s chamber’s the other pictures even more explicit and intimately compromising. The evidence was damming his wife was having an affair she was an adulteress.

Nazeem’s mother smirked, the woman who had stolen her son away from her, ruined the planned marriage to his cousin unmasked and exposed to be a whore, now she will have her revenge and her son back all to herself. 

Nazeem turned to Haajar tears in his eyes at this betrayal laid before him.

“Where did you get these disgusting pictures from Mother?” 

Haajar feigned a look of concern.

“Kalif, your cousin, the brother of the girl you should have married Habeeba. I had my suspicions and he hired a snoop, a private detective, he took them, there is a signed affidavit attesting to the validity there can be no doubt. I feel sad for you Nazeem but you needed to know the truth.”

“We cannot tell your father about this in his condition he must never know the shame brought on our family.  That woman must not be allowed to bring further disgrace to our family name Nazeem, you know our customs you will have her brought here to me I will ensure the harlot repents for her sins of the flesh. I tried to warn you many times what she would be doing behind your back whilst you have been away now you have the proof.”

Nazeem was in a daze his mother had been right all along, hadn’t she? The family could not suffer the ignominy of a divorce and if knowledge of this scandal got out beyond the immediate family it could have severe consequences for the company being in such a conservative country. Adultery and divorce whilst common in the west were rarely even spoken of in Nazeem’s home nation and its culture had its own discrete ways of dealing with such matters. 

Custom dictated that when a husband was made aware of a wife’s infidelity, he must disown her without compassion or communication and the fornicator be delivered into the hands of the wronged husband’s mother to do with has she wished.  Steeped in the harsh traditions of desert life it was thought that if the husband spoke with his adulterous wife, she would use her feminine charms to bewitch and woo him to be granted forgiveness without consequence. Having been confronted by this devastating and compelling evidence provided by his mother, Nazeem had no option but to honour his forefather’s traditions and customs. 

Haajar put her arm around her distraught son.

“Nazeem, go up and see your father he was calling for you earlier, welcome home son and don’t worry I know what needs to be done leave everything to me.” 

Chapter two

The email lacked its usual charm and why hadn’t Nazeem telephoned most unlike Nazeem?

Isabella put the lack of usual sweet nothings in the message down to Nazeem’s father’s condition which must have worsened during his visit.

She didn’t want to go she hated the place but if she was going to have to live there it would be an opportunity to look around, perhaps find an apartment in the city rather than staying out at the main residence which was miles away from anywhere.

Having collected her tickets Isabella sat sipping champagne in the first-class lounge waiting for her flight to be called. A few days, a week at most and she would be back, she had her lap top with her so she could keep in touch with work and friends.

Isabella smiled at the stony-faced driver holding up her name written on a card in the arrival’s hall.

“Hi, Isabella, you are my driver?”

Without a word or smile the heavy-set man picked up Isabella’s luggage and she followed him out to where the car was parked.

The coolness of the car’s interior was a welcome relief, only a short walk from the terminal but the heat was intense. Along with the dust one of Isabella’s many dislikes of Nazeem’s homeland. The invasive fine dust was everywhere and whilst the majority of the population tolerated its intrusion the high-end hotels and large houses used a servant whose only role was to clean this dust. Given within an hour of wiping clean a surface it would become contaminated again, a futile task for anyone. There was even a name given to those hapless souls employed in this role “Gabar ablah” Dust fool.

The heat of the day had started to fade along with the light when they approached the Mudullha mansion pretty lights already twinkling around the perimeter walls. Isabella smiled it looked like something out of a fairytale and soon it would all be hers wouldn’t it?

The car pulled up at the back of the main house and the driver opened the door for Isabella to get out. Strange she thought, being dropped off at the rear of the property, she recalled entering through the large ornate doors at the front of the house on her previous visit? Perhaps some work is being done at the front of the house?

Odd that no one came to meet her and the driver who had brought her ushered Isabella into the rear of the house opened a door to a room just inside and beckoned Isabella forward. No sooner was she inside the room the door slammed closed behind her and a key turned in the lock.

Isabella turned on her designer heels in indignation.

“What the fuck?”

Isabella pulled and tugged on the handle of the solid wood door to the windowless room but it was locked shut?

The voices outside were faint and incompressible speaking in Nazeem’s native tongue and Isabella banged her fist on the door her muffled screams of protest hardly audible.

“Let me out, let me out how dare you lock me in here.”

Haajar smiled accepting the key to the door from the driver.

“What shall I do with the luggage Mrs. Mudullha?”

Haajar smirked looking at the locked door 

“Bring me her computer and purse then burn the rest not a word of this to anyone understand?”

The driver loyal to the Mudullha family for years made a short bow.

“Yes, I understand Mrs. Mudullha.”

The banging on the door continued until exhaustion and tears ended Isabella’s forlorn pleading for release.

The room was cramped and dingy, a bunk to the side wall a sink and toilet behind a filthy curtain a closet and a set of drawers, an uncovered low watt light bulb hanging precariously from the paint peeling ceiling.

Surveying the less than salubrious surroundings in which she found herself Isabella spoke under her breath.

“What was happening where was Nazeem?”

Curled up on the bunk sleep overtook a tearful Isabella, why was she being treated like this? Nazeem will be furious when he finds out what has happened. 

A bucket of cold water tossed over her awakened Isabella in a state of panic and before being completely roused she was being dragged from the bed by three cloaked amazons. The horrors and brutality that followed for the sophisticated and pretty London barrister would be no less than the stuff of horror films and nightmares. Isabella’s designer clothing was unceremoniously torn from her in rags. Pinned down a stout leather and steel chastity belt was locked to her naked body then screaming, before her neck was grasped almost throttling her to silence, her hair was hacked from her and her face scrubbed clean of cosmetics. Jewellery, engagement and wedding rings pulled from her shivering body she stared in shock at her silent veiled assailants.

Begging for mercy the first taste of the Kaboo, a local name for a thin cane, striped her tender thighs and buttocks.  This education in compliance had Isabella sit weeping and motionless whilst the remnants of her beautiful blonde hair was shaved from her head. A thick black paste made from desert viper berries and the glands of sidewinders, an aggressive depilatory used by the indigenous population since biblical times, was spread liberally over Isabella’s bald pate.  This insidious mix destroying the hair follicles ensuring this harlot would carry its shaving of shame to the grave.

 Resistance to the trio’s onslaught was useless and any hint of none compliance was met with aggressive strokes of the Kaboo.

 Laid pinned helpless on the bunk staring up at the ceiling and the dangling light bulb Isabella felt the tightness of a hobble harness being locked above and below her knees. The piercing of her nipples was a pain that made her scream and the stooping chains attached from her nipples to the chastity belt left her sobbing uncontrollably.  Pulled to her feet her pronounced stoop was the only way to ease the constant ache and painful stretching of her dangling tits.

Isabella’s fingers foolishly strayed to her tender nipples only for a swish of the Kaboo across her arms to inform her of her error. Isabella’s eyes went wide with fear and was whacked hard with the Kaboo when she shuck her head in deviance at her next adornments but there was no preventing the stout leather chin strap gag and heavy steel neck collar being locked in place.  With the encouragement of the Kaboo a shivering stooped, muted and distressed Isabella was shuffled out of her cell of confinement into the body of the mansion.  To the three women, what they delivered to Haajar Mudullha was a worthless whore and adulteress worthy of no compassion, a deceitful wife to become the slave of the wronged husband’s mother as tradition dictated.

Haajar smirked watching her slave brought before her its eyes wide with fear. The three women who had abused and prepared Isabella knew no English, why would they, but Haajar was fluent.

Forced to her knees Isabella surveyed the graphic images of her alleged adultery laid out on a low table.

Haajar with little emotion informed a confused and distraught Isabella of the traditions of her country for dealing with an adulterous whore and what her fate would be. That she should be thankful, that in previous times she would be stoned to death for such treachery, the punishment for a harlot and a whore and adulterer. 

Isabella groaned, her tear-filled eyes pleading and moaned incoherently into her gag any pleading and denial unheard and the merciless application of the Kaboo brought her to silence whilst a gloating Haajar continued, a wicked smile across her face.

“Yes, you and I both know that the images are those of your sister but my stupid son is convinced it is you and he has disowned you for the harlot he believes you to be.  The family Imam, having seen this evidence, annulled your marriage out of hand and Nazeem will now be free to marry his cousin Habeeba and when you have been suitably trained you will serve Nazeem and his wife has you will learn to willingly serve me.”

Haajar called in her native tongue to the three women who held Isabella’s head in a vice like grip.  Haajar approached with a syringe and smiled lifting Isabella’s eyelids then carefully dosed each eyeball and her bright blue eyes slowly absorbed the chemical and her eye colour changed to brown.  The diet that Isabella would be fed, rich in tomato puree, carrots and Emu oil increasing the production of melanin.  Over the ensuing months Isabella’s pampered lily-white skin would naturally darken. The gag that currently muted Isabella had another function and when removed the ugly and permanently stained teeth it revealed would be in stark contrast to the pearly whites of prosperous Western women. Within six months of her enslavement Isabella’s skin under the dark baggy folds of her burqa would be no longer the soft velvet of a privileged western white woman but brown dry and rough no different to that of any other indigenous servant.  Within twelve months the short shuffling steps, trained by the hobble harness and what will become her natural stoop no one would ever consider she was or ever had been anything other than the lowly servant she was to become. 

The journey for the pretty, arrogant and sophisticated wife of the heir to the Mudullha fortune and successful barrister, to become the cowering obedient lowly house maid of her mother in law, was at first filled with hopelessness and desperation.  The continuation of the adulterer’s indoctrination became increasingly painful, degrading and humiliating before eventually mentally stupefying her into total and unquestioning compliance to her Mistresses wishes and commands. Abdia, the name she now answered to had become the perfect Gabar ablah, the dust fool, within the Mudullha mansion. 

Nazeem’s father died within a month of Isabella’s arrival oblivious for his daughter in laws planned fate at the hands of his wicked wife and stupid son. With the funeral over and formalities completed Nazeem took up his role of head of the family and chairman of the Mudullha Corporation.

Isabelle smiled at the emails she received from her sister before she left for the emirates. How she was heading for a life of luxury and wealth with her husband.  Obtaining the password to access Isabella’s laptop was not difficult.  The thrashing of the Kaboo on tender flesh had a way of encouraging the divulging of the most closely guarded secrets.  

The initial emails concocted by Haajar were convincing and lighthearted describing a luxurious life style and contradicting her previous reservations of Nazeem’s homeland and residence.  Whilst she was in truth being brutally enslaved by her mother in law the pictures painted by her words were of a developing friendship with Haajar and that she had never been happier. 

Emails to Isabella’s chambers were no less convincing than to her sister, why shouldn’t she resign, she had married into one of the richest families in the emirates. Isabella was not the best liked anyway with her surly attitude at work and she wouldn’t be missed.

Isabelle and Isabella didn’t live in each other’s pockets and the weekly updating emails from Isabella were enough for Isabelle to be satisfied that her sister was enjoying life with her husband and family. Isabelle never considering that her sister, under the stewardship of her mother in law, was imprisoned within the seclusion of the Mudullha mansion being mercilessly driven to the edge of her sanity by her transformation from an articulate sophisticated barrister into nothing more than a humble maid servant.

Nazeem did not want to and did not see is ex wife during the medieval and barbaric torment of her transformation. in fact, it was forbidden under local customs, his mother constantly reminding him of the potential; consequences of such a sacrilegious reunion. 

His scheming mother had already informed Nazeem that his ex wife’s repentance and atonement for her adulterous behavior and wicked duplicity was progressing under the local laws for such a heinous crime against Nazeem and his family.  The lingering feelings he had for what was his pretty wife were fading fast overridden by the duty and honour he owed to his family and the well being of the Mudullha Corporation, much to the delight of his vindictive mother. 

The last email from Isabella, before Haajar destroyed the laptop, informing her sister that she was planning a solo desert safari to the Antallibala mines to obtain an opal for Nazeem’s surprise birthday made Isabelle chuckle. Even when they were girl guides together Isabella struggled to appreciate the difference between East and West.

Haajar convinced her son, that to prevent intervention by those, such as his ex wife’s family, who would find it hard to reconcile or understand the demands of his countries traditions to punish such evil adulterous behavior, it would be best if Isabella just disappeared and as far as the world was concerned disappear she did into the unforgiving shifting sands of the desert. 

Isabelle was not joined by her infirm aging parents when receiving word that Isabella had vanished.  Isabelle stayed at the Mudullha mansion and was tearfully taken to the alleged spot were Isabella’s abandoned vehicle was found some forty miles from civilization and ten miles from the desert track she should have taken to the mine. There was feigned sadness for the benefit of Isabelle and with no trace of Isabella after two weeks of searching Isabelle was ready to return home. 

What Isabelle could not have known that all the time she was staying with the Mudullha family, shackled in the back of the palatial mansion in the squalor of her cell her already unrecognisable burqa clothed, enslaved sibling had listened in helpless desperation, through the walls that divided them, to the convincing lies of Haajar and her son and Isabelle’s own acceptance that her sister Isabella had perished during her fictitious foolhardy venture into the desert.   

With a sorrowful Isabelle on her way back to London the training of the adulterous harlot by Haajar continued in earnest.  The visit of Isabelle was a watershed for Abdia. With her only potential savior accepting of her bogus demise all and any lingering glimmer of hope of rescue and salvation had gone and Abdia became increasingly compliant and accepting of her total subjugation to be the house slave of her cruel mistress, Haajar Mudullha. It had been twelve months now since Isabella had made her fateful trip to the emirates, to the family home of her husband that she had hoped to enjoy. Her reward, not to become the Mistress of Mudullha mansion but, at the hands of her treacherous conniving mother in law, Abdia, its Gabar ablah. 

With no body found, how could there be, a memorial service was held in London for the sad loss of Isabella.

The wedding of Nazeem to his cousin Habeeba which followed six months later was a fabulous affair with many guests and the final cruelest twist of Haajar was to invite Isabelle to the ceremony, no plus one of course, the attendance of Joe Reader would have exposed the wicked lies of Haajar. 

Isabelle, along with the other gathered guests, sat on one of the large cushions awaiting the arrival of the bride and groom happy that Nazeem had found a new love following the tragic loss of her sister. Isabelle smiled watching a dark robed stooping figure wafting dust from the surfaces in the main hall.  Isabelle could not know that the sad brown eyes of the woman peering through the narrow slit of her burqa, being herded along to hasten her task, were those of her stupefied enslaved sister Isabella.  

Haajar smiled with satisfaction at the conclusion of the wedding ceremony and congratulated her son and bride. Habeeba would now become Mistress of the Mudullha mansion and Haajar was confident that little would change for her. It was a mistake for Haajar to underestimate the influence Nazeem’s   wife had over her son.

When the servants of the house were paraded to pay homage in front of the new Mistress of the household Haajar did not notice the subtle smirk on Habeeba’s face when Abdia came to kneel then to prostrate herself on the floor before her. There were no secrets between Nazeem and his new wife.

Chapter 3

Tradition dictated that on the third day following the wedding the Mother of the groom would spend time with the bride’s family and Haajar duly left for her journey to Habeeba’s former home, a month to allow the new mistress of the household to settle in.

Habeeba sat in the study chuckling at the pictures of what was purported to be Nazeem’s former wife, in fact her sister Isabelle having been photographed in compromising situations with Joe Reader now Isabelle’s betrothed. Nazeem had confessed all to his now wife regarding the disappearance of Isabella into the desert and enslavement but surprisingly still believed Isabella had committed adultery and had only followed tradition in placing her into the clutches of his mother.

Nazeem and Isabella had what could be described to be a normal sexual relationship; with Habeeba things were different, very different. 

At first it was just fun wasn’t it Nazeem had never been involved in anything like it and his naivety and groomed desires were quickly exploited until Habeeba had total control of her lover between the sheets. When confronted by Habeeba to have his whole body including his face smeared in a foul-smelling black paste he took it to be just another of her odd sexual perversions never thinking it would leave his body femininely hairless.  By the time their wedding took place it was Habeeba who wore the trousers in their relationship, literally. Such was her hold over Nazeem; Habeeba had her future husband videoed wearing her wedding dress in full makeup before the ceremony in a mock reading of their vows. Nazeem pledging to love honour and obey his wife along with other demeaning acceptances more usually reserved for the female of the union. The disc added to Habeeba’s growing titillating library of her husband’s emasculation.  

Habeeba had been cheated out of her promised union and associated wealth once by Nazeem and his witch of a mother had not been able to prevent him marrying his western whore and she was not going to be sidelined again.  With her petticoated husband emasculated and with knowledge of what he and his mother had done with his first wife Isabella she would be ruling the roost at Mudullha mansions and the Mudullha Corporation.

A stooping Abdia entered the study and knelt respectfully before her Mistress.

Habeeba stood from her desk and walked slowly around what had become of Isabella. English had never been spoken in the presence of Abdia and Abdia had learnt little of the native tongue only to respond without hesitation to the words of command she was given. During her early enslavement should she have dared to utter a word of English she was thrashed remorselessly with the Kaboo and had not spoken for well over a year?

 Abdias head rose from its respectful lowered gaze when Habeeba spoke. 

“I know who you are, stand and remove your robes.”

Abdias eyes looked nervously at her Mistress fearing the worst for some misdemeanor she may have unknowingly committed.

Habeeba reflected on the picture of Isabella’s twin she had viewed and surveyed what had become of that beautiful creature Isabella had surely been now stood shaking nervously before her.

Abdia stood impassively whilst Habeeba fondled the chains from her leathery nipples to her chastity belt and smoothed her palm over her bald head.

Returning to her desk and opening the drawer Habeeba removed an ornate key and walked to stand before her servant.

“Those chains look painful would you like your mistress to remove them?”

Abdia with tears in her eyes struggled to speak so long without speech and made a guttural grunting sound slightly nodding her head.

Habeeba smiled and unlocked the joining chains from Abdia’s chastity belt then, with the back pivot of the key released each chain from the nipple piercing rings. Abdia remained hunched but her relief was obvious and full of emotion sank to her knees and kissed Habeeba’s feet in genuine gratitude. It was the first act of kindness she had been shown since her arrival at Mudullha mansions. Being raised back to her feet by the hand of Habeeba Abdia offered a weak smile and Habeeba hid her emotion at seeing the yellow and blackened teeth that were obviously once pearly white. Abdia’s cheeks were sullen her dusky skin dry, dirty and cracked her breasts hanging limp, pierced nipples extended and leathery. The chastity belt had chaffed her inner thighs and was heavily stained in the crotch the lock showing signs of rust.  Abdia’s back, buttocks and thighs littered with the history of her many thrashings with the kaboo.

Habeeba stood back even she was disturbed by the signs of abuse this poor wretch had suffered what Haajar and her son had done to this once pretty woman.

“Whilst I know who you were there can be no emancipation for you Abdia this is your life now but you are to be my personal maid and your life will be better here from now on, do you understand?”

Abdia was filled with joyous emotion as if all her birthdays had come together. Again, she dropped back to her knees and grabbing her mistresses’ ankles sobbed and kissed relentlessly at her feet.

Habeeba let her maid offer her gratitude until she tired of it and stood back.

“Enough Abdia now let me help you on with this.”

Pulling a back brace from its packaging Habeeba fastened the device in place around Abdia and Abdia squealed in pain when the first cords drew it tight to its starting position. 

“There now dress it will take some time but you will feel better.”

Abdia did not know how to react and just smiled her stained teeth on display. 

Habeeba looked away.

“Ghastly we must do something about those.”

Habeeba had good reason for her personal maid to have a clean mouth has Abdia would soon find. 

It was unheard of but it was the will of the owner of the Mudullha Corporation, Nazeem had spoken and Habeeba was to become chairman and her brother Kalif, Nazeem’s cousin, would be taking over Nazeem’s business trips. The remaining members of the board reluctantly had to accept Nazeem’s decision and it was settled. Nazeem would be spending more time at Mudullha mansions. What the other members of the board did not know that when making his declaration what beautiful lingerie his wife had Nazeem wearing beneath his robes this and the cute but effective cock cage Habeeba had locked around his manhood would surely have amused them all.

During the month of Haajar’s absence from the Mudullha residence Abdia’s posture was steadily improving and her teeth had been whitened. Abdia was genuinely overjoyed when she was locked into a less austere, more comfortable ornate chastity belt by her new Mistress. Abdia’s shuffling gait did not readily improve and of course her head remained bald.  Abdia’s burqas were made of a finer cloth and her duties now were only to serve her Mistresses every need. Nazeem at first refused to leave his apartments the way Habeeba had him now dressing but to the initial amusement of the servants he now ventured out into the body of the mansion and how pretty he looked, Habeeba insisting he did.

Habeeba’s family home was comfortable but not as palatial as the Mudullha mansion and Haajar was anxious to return. Her months stay would be over at the weekend and arrangements were being made for her journey back to her home. Nazeem was aware his mother would be returning soon and his tearful begging was ignored by his domineering wife he was to remain in his feminine attire.  

Abdia had already serviced her Mistresses nocturnal needs many times and under her Mistresses tutorage her tongue was becoming increasingly pleasurable to have thrashing, tipping and teasing at and within the glistening sex between Habeeba’s thighs. Most nights Habeeba would have Nazeem bound and gagged at the foot of their marriage bed in his pretty nightdress, his cock painfully straining in its cage, moaning in cuckold frustration to watch his first wife enthusiastically at her task of pleasuring her mistress, his now wife Habeeba.

Bound to the post at the bottom of his marriage bed his nightdress stained by his seeping semen he watched Habeeba’s hips rise and squirm with Isabella’s tongue inside her. His mother would be home soon perhaps she could do something like she had with Isabella, take Habeeba to be a house maid anything to free him from his humiliation.  But what would she say when she found out about his emasculation at the hands of Habeeba his estrogen rich diet and the drugs where already firming his pubescent breasts and spreading his hips, his suits, shirts and shoes had gone his wardrobe now silk and lace and fine dresses she can’t see me like this she can’t? 

Squeals of pleasure from the bed and Habeeba briefly moaned her satisfaction. Habeeba raised her head and smiled at Nazeem before laying an exhausted Abdia on the pillows by her side then sliding from the bed.

Nazeem’s gag removed Habeeba’s soft lips smoothed to his making Nazeem squirm her fingers toying across the silky fabric and decorative lace of his nightdress to firm his nipples.

“Soon you will have proper breasts my love and when that wicked stick between your legs hangs like loose skin and those testicles shrink away, as surely they will, you can join us in our wedding bed and be a good tongue lapping whore for your wife.” 

Habeeba chuckled placing the gag back into Nazeem’s mouth and walked to the drawers Nazeem’s concerned eyes straining to follow her and moaned loudly into his gag watching her thread the belt of a strap on around her.

Habeeba laughed smoothing lubricant over the large phallus dangling from her waist. 

“Now now girly you know you like this don’t you, this is like real men have not like that shrinking, and straining bud my little sissy boy has in his cage.”

Abdia pressed herself up on the pillows hearing the gagged grunts of Nazeem bent over the bed end. The grunts subsided and Nazeem, having willingly surrendered himself, softly moaned.  Abdia could clearly see his ridged nipples on his forming breasts through his nightdress. They were not moans of pain but of pleasure. Abdia was wet and pressed her hands to her chastity belt for some release staring at Nazeem’s Mascara running, his eyes rolling, his long hair released from its ribbons dangling and sticking to his face how she wished to have her Mistresses dong within her. 

Leaving Nazeem hanging over the bed end panting Habeeba slurped the dildo from Nazeem’s grateful ass and tugged down the hem of his nightdress before untying his bonds and snatching out his gag.

Abdia looked longingly and lovingly at her Mistress wiping clean the warm phallus and Habeeba smiled.

“You naughty girl not yet for you Abdia, not yet, now off to your room.”

Chapter 4

Habeeba had been absolutely grief stricken but also enraged, to the point of contemplating taking her life at the shame of having been shunned by Nazeem to marry his Western whore, for him and his family to renege on the two families’ agreement an oath which was sworn on the blood of their ancestors. Habeeba‘s family were incensed and vowed to take revenge on the Mudullha family.  The arranged marriage had been agreed when both Nazeem and Habeeba were no more than babies such was the tradition, Habeeba being left with a deep seated loathing of all things male after the experience.

Not long after Nazeem and Habeeba had been reunited by the scheming Haajar Habeeba, whilst looking for linen during a visit to the Mudullha residence, had made a chilling discovery in a drawer of the study, which had been carelessly left unlocked. Sharing this knowledge with only her parents and brother, beyond the shock of such wickedness, the revenge of the Bousaid family was plotted. Even knowing that Nazeem’s wife was still alive, enslaved within Mudullha mansions, Habeeba would agree to marry Nazeem like Haajar had begged; Haajar actually sighting the will of God that the western whore had been swallowed up in the drifting sands of the desert.  

Kalif sought and was granted forgiveness and was exonerated in the eyes of his family for his part in the dreadful episode.  Yes, he had been eager and enthusiastic to expose Nazeem’s harlot wife to be an adulterer but how was he to know Isabella had an identical twin, something he would only witness first hand at the wedding.

Habeeba, having read much on the destruction, debasement and emasculation of the male, following her public humiliation, tested out the waters with Nazeem, getting him first into her panties one evening with more en femme dressing following. Kalif had laughed out loud at Habeeba’s scheming but agreed to obtain the dietary supplements and aggressive depilatory she requested from the Bedouins. The Bousaid family hid their anger and contempt for Nazeem and Haajar and wedding plans proceeded to the ceremony. The emasculated Nazeem was now putty in his wife’s hands and Habeeba’s parents could hardly hide their delight knowing that whilst the evil Haajar was staying with them Habeeba was securing all the Mudullha wealth and properties into her name and control. 

Haajar s luggage was set on the veranda and she awaited her driver to take her on the long journey back to her home at Mudullha mansions. When the car pulled away Habeeba’s parents smiled at each other. 

“Wine my princess?”

 “Of course, my love we have much to celebrate and of course prepare.”

Both laughed watching the dust cloud from the limousine disappear into the distance knowing what fate awaited the pompous Haajar on her return to Mudullha mansions. 

Haajar was most aggrieved that her own driver had not collected her, but on reflection he could be sick or on his day off? Sat in the back of the car she watched the emptiness of the desert roll by anxious to be back at Mudullha mansions after her time away and hoping that Nazeem had trimmed that ridiculous long hair that he had grown since getting back with Habeeba. Haajar smiled smugly to herself, Nazeem and Habeeba were now married, the marriage that was originally arranged. With the wealth of the two families combined by the union, Nazeem and by default herself would become amongst the wealthiest in the land. 

Habeeba would have had time to settle in but she would be mistress in name only at Mudullha mansions of course. When Haajar returned she would resume control, teach the young bride who was boss wouldn’t she? 

Entering the grounds of her residence Haajar smirked at the girl off in the distance attending the flowers. A female gardener, I don’t think so, not whilst I am Mistress of Mudullha mansions!

 Haajar stepped from the car and strode straight past a waiting Habeeba who was stood in the doorway.

“A long journey, I need to pee, Habeeba attend to my luggage and I don’t much like your driver, where is my driver and why is there a woman attending the gardens, that’s mans work?”

Habeeba chuckled and smiled at the driver who approached her.

“What shall I do with all this luggage Mistress?”

Habeeba looked out at Abdia tending the flowers in the gardens and smiled.

“Give me the jewellery case then put the rest out with the rubbish for burning.

A little perplexed at the instruction but in deference the driver bowed slightly.

“Yes Mistress.”

Stood in the main hallway Haajar called out Nazeem’s name, with no reply or sign of her son Haajar found Habeeba sat in the study at the desk she herself was accustomed to be sitting at. Haajar frowned at the imposition of having to sit on the slightly lower chair on the opposite side of the desk.

 “A pleasant journey I trust Haajar?”

Prior to the wedding Habeeba had always addressed Haajar more formally, Mrs. Mudullha, but those days were over.

Haajar stared at Habeeba at the unfamiliar form of address.

“Not really I would have preferred my own driver but no matter, now I need to unpack and settle back in, you will arrange for tea to be served and I will tell you how things are run here at Mudullha mansions.”

Habeeba smiled.

“Don’t leave just yet Haajar there have been some changes in your absence and I am sure you will wish to know of them.”

Haajar was agitated.

“Changes, changes what changes and where is Nazeem is he travelling or at the offices?”

Habeeba sat back with a smirk.

“No, Nazzie is here he is getting ready and will be joining us later.

Haajar was even more agitated.

“He is here then why did not come when I called him, he always comes when I call him, getting ready? Ready for what and why is he not at work?”

Habeeba leaned forward pushing forward the notarised deeds of transfer for the Mudullha Corporation and all other assets of the Mudullha family.

“Well that is one of the changes, Nazzie has no need to be at work he relinquished his role of chairman of the Mudullha Corporation and head of the family, you will see from the documents I am the chairperson now, the shares and everything else are all in my name, not Nazzie‘s.”

Haajar was angry and showed it, what was this young vixen saying?

“Preposterous, and stop calling him Nazzie if you don’t mind, it sounds like a girl’s name show some respect for your husband.”

Haajar stood with a face like thunder glaring at Habeeba.

“I am not accepting any of this nonsense, I will contest it in the courts, where is Nazeem he cannot do this I need to speak with him where is he?”

Habeeba reached down and placed a familiar looking file on the desk then removed the contents and spread them out before a wide eyed Haajar. Haajar gulped, the file had been hidden, locked in her private drawers hadn’t it? How did Habeeba find it?

“Sit down Haajar; I think you will find that you will accept everything and whatever I tell you.”

“Now you listen and listen good I know exactly what you did with Isabella convincing Nazzie that she had committed adultery and then you and Nazzie faking her disappearance whilst you brutally enslaved her. 

“Yes, Haajar you will accept everything and do just as I say or I will turn all this over to the authorities I doubt you and Nazzie would welcome a long prison sentence or perhaps worse, a public flogging?” 

Haajar stared down at the incriminating pictures and documents then up into the gloating eyes of Habeeba.

“Habeeba you don’t understand I did it all for you, so you could be married, Nazeem knew nothing he still believes she cheated on him, yes the disappearance he colluded with that to prevent any problems with Isabella’s family but Nazeem must never know what I did, please Habeeba I will do anything please?”

Habeeba scooped up the pictures and documents from the desk and replaced them into the folder.

“That’s better Haajar, you dishonored my family and humiliated me allowing Nazeem to marry the Western woman and I am now supposed to be happy left with sullied secondhand goods?  For what you did there is a price to pay and pay you will.  What you have done with Abdia is too far gone to be reversed she will remain hidden away here to be my personal maid.  Nazzie is my husband and has you will shortly see I have taken steps to ensure that he has no choice but to remain so, I control everything, there will be no sudden disappearance of this wife into the desert.” 

Habeeba chuckled.

“All that remains now is what to do with you?  If you wish to avoid your wickedness being revealed to Nazzie and the authorities you can leave here penniless to take your chances on the streets of the city with the beggars or, if you wish to keep a roof over your head and be fed, you will enter into service, to become a house maid. What’s more you will convince your son that is what you wish to do. Telling him that there can only one Mistress of Mudullha mansions and it is only right you make way for his new wife.”

Haajar stared at Habeeba.

Her daughter in law was to have her become a servant and why does Habeeba continue to call Nazeem by the name Nazzie? Where was her son, surely, he would not accept his mother being put to service?  Why had he relinquished his role of chairman of the Mudullha Corporation to his wife, put the family wealth into her hands, what possibly could have made him do such things? Haajar’s mind was in turmoil she could not risk being exposed for what she had done and the price for Habeeba’s silence, she would have to convince her son that she wanted to enter into service? 

Habeeba walked to the closet at the back of the study and pulled a servant’s burqa from inside and smiled offering it to Haajar. 

“Well Haajar what is it to be would you like your secrets to remain safe?” 

“But Habeeba please, what will Nazeem say seeing me wearing this and what about the other servants, I cannot be a servant here?  

Habeeba smirked. 

“A servant here, no of course not, do you not recognise the Burqa? You should, it is the livery of my parent’s household you are to serve in their home not mine. When you have spoken with Nazzie and convinced him that you wish to be a servant for my mother you will return to my parent’s home, all is prepared for you there the driver is waiting.”

 “Dress and I will call Nazzie and remember one wrong word from you and I will tell him what you did and then the file goes straight to the authorities is that clear?”

Haajar lowered her head what choice did she have.

“Yes, yes whatever you say Habeeba.”

Habeeba smiled.

“Habeeba? I don’t think that level of familiarity is now suitable, Mrs. Mudullha from now on Haajar."

Haajar complied.

“Yes Mrs. Mudullha.”

Haajar stripped from her fine dress swopping her ornate shoes for heavy boots and sat in the coarse cloth of her burqa, her garb of service, no different to what the other servants wore that she had seen working for the Bousaid family. 

Habeeba rang the bell on her desk.  The door to the study opened and with the soft rustle of fine silk, the light jangle of costume jewellery and the heady scent of perfume Nazzie entered, his mother with her back to the door.

Habeeba smiled at her pretty husband who stared questioningly at the servant sat in front of his wife’s desk.

“Come in Nazzie your mother has returned, time for her to see the new you, yes Nazzie it’s your mother sat at my desk. You may be wondering why your mother is dressed like she is.  No less a surprise to me but it seems your mother, not wanting to be a burden on us and with nowhere else to go, asked my parents and they agreed, that she could enter into their service, your mother is now one of my mother’s maid servants.”

“Isn’t that right Haajar?”

Nazeem was shocked and his heart sank seeing his mother dressed like she was in her dowdy servant’s burqa having become a servant for his wife’s family, why had she done this? Without his mother to help him Nazeem knew his life of femininity would be permanent.  Habeeba having emasculated her husband and condemned his mother to be a mere servant in her parent’s home her grip on the wealth and control of the Mudullha family was confirmed. 

Filled with her own shame Haajar turned and gasped staring in disbelieve at was her son. A beautiful dress, make up, painted nails, silky hair, some of Haajar’s own jewellery, all cocooning a developing feminine form.  Haajar’s head lowered in total capitulation to Habeeba’s will realising that the steps Habeeba had told her of, to ensure the control of her son, was to make him her wife?

Haajar was raging inside but could not risk prison or worse for herself and her feminized son Nazzie or that Nazeem would learn that it was she who had tricked him into believing Isabella was an adulterer, having him agree to her brutalization, enslavement and bogus disappearance and meekly confirmed that she had become a servant of the Bousaid family.  

“Yes Mrs. Mudullha I am your mother’s servant.”

Habeeba chuckled. 

“Quite a surprise for you Haajar, don’t worry he is happy like this, I have just helped Nazzie get in touch with his feminine side and what a pretty house husband he makes don’t you agree Haajar? Tell your mother that you want to be like this Nazzie, to be feminine, to dress and behave like a pretty girl for your wife.”

Nazzie blushed and spoke softly.

“Mother I don’t know what happened to me, I had strange feelings Habeeba helped me, she said it was alright to be like this if I wanted to. It started when Habeeba and I got back together long before the wedding. Habeeba liked me without body hair, wearing her lingerie, growing my hair, then her dresses and make up. Once we were married Habeeba purchased my own wardrobe for me, had me dress like this all the time. Habeeba said, being like I am I could no longer be Chairman of the Corporation and go to work looking like this and she took over everything. Habeeba is in charge I am just my wife’s house husband now.” 

Habeeba smiled rang the service bell on her desk then took hold of her husband’s heavily ringed shaking hand looking at a dismayed Haajar.

“I am not one for long good-byes the driver will meet you at the rear of the house, the servant’s entrance.”

Haajar hid her anger.

“Will Mrs. Mudullha forward my things to her parent’s residence?”

Habeeba smirked at what was the mistress of Mudullha mansions dressed in a servant’s burqa her feminised son powerless to help her.

“I am sure you will find all a servant will require at your place of work, good-bye.”

“Say good-bye to your mother Nazzie “

Nazzie wiped a tear from his eye.

“Good-bye mother.”

Haajar with her head lowered hoping not to be seen shuffled down the steps at the back of the house, Habeeba’s driver opening the back doors of not a limousine but a van and then unceremoniously bundling his veiled cargo inside for the hot dusty journey back to the Bousaid family residence. All the driver knew was a servant woman was to be delivered to the Bousaid family a gift from The Mistress of Mudullha mansions. 

 Abdia pushing a wheelbarrow filled with the tools of her labours in the gardens stepped back for the van to pass on the dusty driveway looking at the eyes peering out from the back window and instinctively waved. Little knowing it was the architect of her demise being shipped to her own fate.

Abdia strolled back to the house and smiled placing her gardening tools back on their racks wondering what her Mistress had in store for her that evening.

The end

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