My Spot

I am a unworthy woman. I am a unworthy slave. And most importantly, I am a unworthy wife. How do I know this? Well...maybe I should start from the beginning.

I used to be called Faith and in college, I met my husband. Back then, he was called Adam and we were deeply in love. We married soon after graduation despite our parents' doubts about our age. Perhaps they were right because the marriage was soon in trouble.

We were both quite young and looking back, I was too headstrong to be a good wife. I was also too ambitious . I am ashamed to admit that back then my job was more important than my marriage and the gradual breakdown of the marriage was more my fault than my husband's.

The only good thing about the marriage was the sex which we had three to five times every week. When we got to it, my husband was loving, gentle, and attentive. However as our careers took over our lives, even that began to gradually lost its steam. Soon the two of us were living different lives and our relationship suffered accordingly.

It all changed one day when I discovered a Koran in the house.

When I asked my husband about it, he openly admitted that it was his and that he had been going for religious classes for weeks. He claimed it was due to a potential business deal his company was doing with a Middle Eastern company and the incident was just another case of showing my worthlessness as a wife back then.

My husband was studying religion and I didn't even noticed it till a chance discovery! However, this chance discovery was the beginning of happiness for us.

About two months after I found the Koran, I woke up to find my husband missing from our bed. I went out of the bedroom door and immediately heard noises from the study. It was soft but the house was so quiet that even with the closed door, the Islamic verses coming from the room could easily be heard.

Again showing my worthlessness as a wife, I silently opened the door of the study and looked in. I peeped in and saw that my husband performing prayers to Allah. I was shocked. The business deal had fell through and I could think of no reason why my husband would be praying. The fact that he could find and love God was something that I shamefully never thought possible.

The next day, I came home early and started to search through the study. I found my husband's books, discs and brochures. I knew almost nothing about Islam back then and as I read, I became more and more alarmed. The books and discs showed a strict religion with clear messages on good and evil, on clear differences between men and women, and on clear ways of conduct between the two genders. Not only that, there were many passages in the books that stated that women were inferior to men and were only on Earth to serve men and give them babies.

Some of the books went further. They declared that all women were "impure" and "sinful" and they must be closely controlled for their own good. The books declared that all women must remain dressed with the utmost modesty at all times, to protect themselves from sin and men from their sinful bodies. Some even declared that even women's voices were sinful, promoting that women must be gagged in public to prevent their voice from being heard by people. The books state that women should neither be seen or heard. I found that my husband had various pictures of women in burqa, niqabs and chadors, all looking serene and submissive. 

I was shocked but at the same time, I couldn't stop reading. I read everything I could get my hands on, totally forgetting the time and when my husband came home, he found me on the floor of the study with all his books around me. He was not pleased.

He screamed at me, rightfully scolding me for going through his things without his permission. His tone was angry but at the same time, I could heard that he was exasperated as well. Obviously, he had been bottling up his frustration about me for some time and for once, I felt shame.

My husband suddenly stopped with a look of surprise on his face and as I looked at him wondering why, I discovered the reason. Without knowing why, I had moved myself from my sitting position to my knees. I was kneeling in front of my husband and the act surprised both of us. Instead of being ashamed however, I felt "right".

That was the only way I could described my feelings. It was right. It was right that a woman like myself was on my knees in front of her husband. It was just right. Like the books said, it was the way all women should greet their husbands. However back then, I was prideful, stubborn and could not allow myself to believe my joy in discovering my submission.

I tried to grab back some pride by standing up, but suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. My husband was gripping my shoulder and pushing me down onto the floor. I glared at him and shouted.

"Let me go, you bastard!"

Struggling to free myself from under him, I heard my husband's cold reply.

"You're my wife," he said. "It is only right that you greet me on your knees."

That was actually what I felt as well and for a moment, my knees buckled. However like I said earlier, back then I was stubborn and I slapped my husband. Yes, I raised my hand against my lord and master. Even thinking of the moment now years later, I felt the justice of what happened next.

My husband slapped me back, causing me to fall on the ground, and as I tried to get up, he kicked me in the stomach. The kick took the wind out of me. My husband then grabbed my hands and took out a rope from somewhere. My hands were tied and I watched in shock as he pulled out his belt. Seeing the belt, my anger and rage quickly turned to fear and I pleaded with him not to do it.

Showing the pride and power of a man, my husband ignored me. He pushed me around so that my face would be against the floor and then stepped on me. With his foot on my back, he raised the belt over his shoulder, and then he started to strike my ass with the belt.

I screamed and pleaded but he was in another world. Looking back, I realized just how frustrated and unhappy he was. The business deal with the Middle Eastern company had fell through, he was in an unhappy marriage, and now his disrespectful wife had went through his things without permission. He was taking his frustration out on his wife and I now realized that this was his right.

When he finally stopped, I was in so much pain I could do nothing but lay on the ground. I was finally moved when my husband pulled me by my hair to our bedroom. I crawled quickly behind him and once we went into the bedroom, he pushed me onto the bed.

My husband wasted no time. He fell on top of me and entered me roughly. I felt his hand on my breast and for the first time ever, he squeezed. The pain was something I never felt in our love-making before and I discovered what I was missing. With his godly cock inside me, the pain caused me to reach my orgasm quickly. Usually, we would have stopped there but my husband continued on.  

He was following his own desires, using me as he wished and I let him. I did not complain, protested or fought; taking everything my husband was giving me. I did not know how long it took but my husband finally climaxed inside me. Showing my worthlessness as a wife, I remembered being silently worried about being pregnant.

Yes, instead of being glad of having his seed inside me, I was worried!

My husband must have read my mind because his rage was still not spent. He pulled me off the bed and made me stand in a corner of the bedroom. He warned me not to move and to look forward. He then went out of the room. A short while later, I heard him entering. The next thing I knew, a red cloth was cascading over me.   

I was blinded by the cloth but my husband was a good man. He kindly moved the cloth and before I knew it, I was looking through a grilled opening. I saw enough of my husband's books to realize that my husband had placed a burqa over me.

My husband slapped me on my ass and I jumped at the pain. However I remembered the whipping and did not move from my spot. Yes, I now think of it as my "spot". My husband warned me not to move again and went out of the roomn. I stood in my spot for the rest of the night and as my husband went to sleep, into the morning. The next morning, I called in sick and slept on the bed after my husband had left for work. I was still in the red burqa.

And it was a deep wonderful restful sleep.