Duty

Was she tired? Yes, she was. She was very tired, but she still dragged her body up. She was a woman and a wife; it was her duty to get everything ready for the day and as it was for all women of Vippon, duty was everything for Yukiko.

Yukiko rubbed her eyes and looked at the time of the small clock she shared with her sister. There was no alarm as that a clock like that would cost more but years of getting up at 5am in the morning has given Yukiko an internal body alarm that worked better than any clock.

Pulling her blanket away, Yukiko stood up and quickly went for her clothes. Her husband was a tradition man so his wives always slept naked even if it was in the dead of winter, even if it wasn’t her night to sleep with him. Yukiko put on her panties, underpants, and bra in a hurry. These were quickly followed by her winter kimono. Much thicker than her summer clothes, it was a necessary expense for the cold winter of Vippon but Yukiko couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the money wasted for her comfort.

She then tied up her hair tightly in a bun before putting on her hoodveil. Most foreigners think the hoodveil was a garment that just wrap around the head, covering the face but leaving only her eyes visible. However the head covering was actually 2 pieces of three-foot fabric which were tied securely around the head. One of the cloth was tied on top of the head covering the hair and was tied to the second piece of cloth which cover the lower face as well as the neck area. Combine together, the 2 cloths totally covered the whole face outside the small area near the eyes.

Usually, Yukiko would put on the hoodveil first before her kimono but in winter, it was the other way around. Yukiko tied her kimono with a simple obi before leaving the women room. This was the room she and Kimo shared and as per the norm, the women room was right beside the kitchen. As she left the room for the kitchen, she noticed the television was still on. Curious, she went towards the living room and noticed her husband’s son, Kato, sleeping on the couch.  Sighing silently, she shook the boy awake.

It would have been easier to just call out but as a woman, she did speak to men unless spoken to. Even if he was currently just a 13 year old boy and she knew him since he was a baby, Kato was a man. After a few seconds of shaking, Kato’s eyes opened. He looked around sleepily before quickly understanding the problem.

“Sorry”

Yukiko was glad the boy was brave enough to be embarrassed but publicly she told Kato another thing. “I’m a woman Kato. You are going to be a man in a few months, you don’t say sorry to woman.”

The boy smiled sheepishly and nodded.

“It’s still early,” Yukiko told him. “Go back to your room, your mother will wake you when it’s time.”

Kato nodded and got up. Yukiko went to close the television. After doing so, she heard a gasp and turned to the sound. At the entrance of his room, Kato met his mother. Kimo had slept with their husband last night and like Yukiko had awoke to do her womanly duties. Unfortunately, she had not veiled before coming out of the room and now for the first time in years, Kato was looking at the face of his mother.

Kimo raised her hands to her face to cover it but it was a futile gesture. Kato quickly turned and walked to his room, leaving behind 2 shocked women in his wake. Then, after the shock was over, a look of pure rage appeared on her face of Kimo. Luckily for everyone, instead of confronting her son who should not be there, Kimo proceed to stomp to the kitchen.

Yukiko followed her sister to the kitchen and gave her a few seconds to compose herself. Her sole unwed daughter, Yukio, was just getting up and she knew immediately there was trouble. However she was a smart girl and knew enough to keep quiet. Yukiko was glad. At 15, Yukio had been sleeping in the kitchen for the past 2 years getting ready for her marriage which would be arranged by her husband in a couple of years time. Knowing when to be quiet was a good trait in a wife. 

Yukiko went up to her sister and touched Kimo on the arm. Kimo took a deep breath before turning to her. Yukiko tried to keep her voice as pleasant as possible but the message still had to be given.

“Control yourself sister. In a few months, Kato will be a man and you cannot keep thinking of him as just your son. He is the heir to the Yukimura family name and will need help adjusting to his new position.”

Her sister had a look of surprise but she was a good second wife and quickly nodded. “I understand sister. It’s just…hard. I keep thinking of him as my little baby. He was such a cute baby and now…well, he’s all grown up.”

“He was a cute baby,” Yukiko assured his sister. “Now, he will be a good man. It’s as much our duty as his mothers to guide him to manhood as our husband.”

“I…understand.” Kimo finally said. “I will do what’s needed.”

Yukiko hugged her sister. In a way, she understood her sister’s pain. She had 3 daughters and the two oldest had married. It’s always hard to see children leave the nest. Kimo took another deep breath and Yukiko knew she was good to go.

After years together, the two of them had teamwork on their side and breakfast was quickly prepared. Very few words was given to Yukio. In Vippon, you traditionally learn by watching and her two mothers were masters at preparing breakfast. With breakfast ready, the three women took the food out to dining table and went for their daily morning routine.

They brushed their teeth and did their business in the toilet before taking that morning shower. To save money, the three women went into the shower together. The water was cold, warm water was only for the men, and the three women washed each other to quicken their shower. They were careful not to get their hair wet and the non-washing of their hair made the shower time even quicker. Even then, they were all shivering when they came out.

After putting on their kimonos, Yukiko looked at the time and saw that it was almost 6. All three women then proceed to put on their hoodveils. Yukiko looked at the time again and saw they still had some time. She took a quick look out of the window and the city in white. She always thought the city covered in snow a soothing scene. Then, she signaled to the other women.

The 3 women went and stood in a row in the living room. The flat the Yukimura family were staying in had 2 bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen and a storage room. Yukiko’s husband had insisted on the women having a room of their own so the storage room had been converted. Both Yukiko and Kimo had quietly suggested that they just be allowed to sleep in the kitchen with Yukio.

He refused to allow it.

The 3 women knelt and waited for the men to wake. They did not have to wait long. The alarm from their clocks rang exactly at 6am and the women bowed their heads to the ground. When the men stepped out of their rooms, the first thing they would see would be the kneeling and bowed women.

Yukiko had always wondered how the faces of the men looked like when they saw the women like this, but with her eyes to the ground she would never find out. When she heard the footsteps of the men heading to the bathroom near the kitchen, Yukiko stood. Together with Yukio, she stepped into her husband’s room. Kimo headed into her son’s room.

Making the bed was a simple chore in Vippon. Yukiko just had to clean the futon a little, untied it, folded it up and then stored it in the cabinet. Mother and daughter were soon on their way out of the room. Yukiko walked to the dining table with Yukio dutifully following a step behind. They stood near the table and waited for Kimo. Yukiko’s sister soon came out of Kato’s room and she stood between mother and daughter. Yukiko’s husband and Kato arrived at the dining table and took their seats at the table. All 3 women knelt on the floor. Although they did not bowed their heads to the ground, all 3 women kept their eyes respectfully downwards.

The men began their breakfast. A few moments later, Kimo stood up and walked to her husband’s room. At her movement, Yukiko saw her husband raised an eyebrow but she knew what her sister was doing. Kimo was soon back at the table. She knelt in front of Yukiko and Yukio and with both hands, offered a belt to their husband.

Yukiko kept her silence as Kimo explained to their husband what mistake she made and why she needed a beating. The evil glare their husband gave Kato gave Yukiko no doubt who he thought was at fault. However…

“Kato, take the belt and give your mother 10 strikes.”

Kato looked like he was just asked to kill someone. “What…me? You want me to…”

Yukiko’s husband nodded. “The woman showed you her uncovered face. The dishonour is yours so her punishment is yours as well.” Yukiko’s husband look at his son sternly. “Do your duty son.”

Kato sat there dumbly. Seconds passed and Yukiko’s husband went back to his breakfast. Faced with his father’s order, Kato stood up shakily. He stepped around the dining and went to his mother. His face showed his agony but he took the belt from the hands of his mother. Although Yukiko’s husband was a traditional man, he much prefer the belt as the house discipline tool instead of the standard bamboo cane or wooden paddle. Almost all of the women’s punishment were by the belt and Kato had learned what he should do after seeing his father doing it so many times.

He stepped behind Kimo immediately after taking the belt and Kimo bowed her head to the ground. Kato raised the belt above his head and swung. The belt hit his mother across the back. Kimo’s body reacted but she kept her dignity by neither crying out nor moving away. Part of a woman’s duty in Vippon was to accept such punishments and Yukiko knew there was no way her sister would dishonour herself. Kato raised the belt again and again swung it down.

Yukiko made a point to watch the punishment. Kato was a man now, and she knew she needed to remember this scene. Remember that if she disobey him in the future, she would be in Kimo’s place. She needed to see and remember the power the young man has over her from now on. He was no longer a baby. He was no longer a boy. He is now a man and she, a woman, must obey.

After 10 strikes, Kato stopped. He dropped the belt in front of his mother. Kimo rose her head and took the belt with both hands. She stood up and gave a deep bow to her son. Kato went back to his seat at the table and looking at his face, Yukiko knew he would never fall asleep watching television ever again.

Kimo walked back to their husband’s room to return the belt. Kimo soon returned and took her place between Yukiko and Yukio. All 3 women returned their eyes respectfully downwards. When the men finished their breakfast and got up, all 3 women bowed their heads to the ground. As the footsteps got further away, the women stood up and cleared the table. They then went back to the living room and knelt at the door of their flat.

The men stepped out of their rooms dressed for their day. Yukiko’s husband was a taxi-driver and in Vippon this meant he was dressed in a finely-pressed suit with a tie and black pants. His son was still in school and was dressed in his school uniform of a white long-sleeved shirt with a black jacket over it. In the summer, the jacket would be put aside but now it’s winter and the jacket was part of the uniform. Kato’s black pants completed the look.

As the two walked towards the door, the 3 women bowed their heads to the ground. The men sat on two stools either side of the door and Yukiko crawled to her husband. With proper respect, she kept her head low as she put on her husband’s black leather shoes. She then crawled back to her position in line. On her left, she felt Kimo crawling back in line after putting on the shoes for her son.

“Raise your head.” The 3 women did as ordered and Yukiko’s husband continued. “You all did well today. I want all of you to do the same for the rest of the day. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye Sir.” The 3 women intoned as Yukiko saw her husband put on his white gloves. The men left. 

The moment the door closes again, Yukiko’s left arm went to her sister and hugged her close. Yukiko knew her husband had said the words of doing well especially for her.

“How did feel Kimo?”

“Painful,” her sister said. “But at the same time, proud. I felt so proud. My boy all grown up.”

Kimo’s face finally broke and she began sobbing. Yukiko gave her sister a shoulder to cry on. When the sobs subsided, Yukiko pulled down her faceveil showing her face to her sister. She gently pushed Kimo apart from her and pulled her veil down as well. Yukiko then gave her sister a wet kiss on the lips. When they parted, Yukiko’s words were for her daughter.

“Yukio, please start the cleaning without us. Yours mothers will be busy for the next few hours.”

Yukio giggled her acknowledgement and Yukiko pulled her sister up to her feet. Hand in hand, she led Kimo to their room. As the first wife, it was usually Kimo who serviced her but today would be different. For doing her duty so well, Yukiko knew her sister deserved a reward and Yukiko fully intend to give her one.

This too was part of a woman’s duty in Vippon.  

The Eternal Servant

“Koharu, come here!”

Kei Kimitaka’s shout echoed through the house and Naiki immediately heard a pair of feet running towards them. Correction; running was the wrong word to use in this instance. It sounded more like a pair of feet quickly shuffling across the ground.

Naiki Kimitaka knew this was the case even before his mother shuffled into the room where his father was waiting for her. His mother, Koharu, was wearing a plain brown kimono that prevented her from taking a full stride. As usual, she was wearing a hoodveil which covered her head leaving only her eyes visible to him. Seeing him in the room, his mother gave him a quick bow before kneeling before his father and bowing her head at his feet.

“Koharu, can you explain this?” his father asked. His mother raised her head slightly and was immediately cut down. “Put your head on the ground woman!”

At his father’s shout, his mother lowered her head even more. This time her face and not just her forehead was touching the ground. Seemingly satisfied, his father continued. “I gave you a weekly budget for household expenses. Why did you go over the budget last week?”   

Naiki knew the reason but kept quiet. His father wasn’t asking him, but his mother. Telling the truth now might even make things worse for his mother.

“My lord, this woman was foolish and did not plan her expenses properly.” His mother pleaded. “Please punish your servant so that she will never make the mistake again.”

Like any good Vipponese mother, Naiki’s mother did not give him up. Naiki felt a lump in his throat as his father took out his belt and stood behind the kneeling form of his wife. Raising his belt above his head, he smacked it across the back of his wife. The room echoed with the sound.

10 times the belt went up and down before his father finally stopped.  Throughout the punishment period, his mother curled up on her hands and knees, took her punishment without moving. Later, Naiki would learn how rare his mother was. Most women would at least fidget but back then, Naiki only heard a whimper and nothing more from his mother. A whimper that almost broke him but Naiki controlled himself. Even at that young age, he knew the dishonor he would be bringing to his mother if he tried to comfort her at that moment.

“Take this as a lesson woman. Now get out of my sight!” At his father’s command, his mother started to crawl out of the room on her hands and knees. Naiki could clearly see that she was in pain but like a good Vipponese woman, she thank her lord and husband for her punishment. After she had left the room, his father turned and looked at Naiki. One look at his father’s face and Naiki knew his father knew.

“You know I was the one who spent the money, don’t you father?” His father nodded and Naiki felt his temper rising. “Then why did you punish mother and not me?”

“Because I gave the money to your mother Naiki,” his father said as he started to put his belt back around his pants. “She was the one responsible for the money, not you.”

“As a woman, she cannot keep the money from me the moment I asked for it.” Now he was getting angry. “You know that and still you punished her?”

“Yes,” his father said. “Your mother is a good woman and a great slave. She properly never even thought of saying no to you when you asked for the money.”

“Then why…it’s not her fault! It was mine and you know that!”

“Because your mother is a good woman.” His confusion must have shown because his father calmly explained. “Your mother gave you the money even though she knew she would be punished for it when I find out. Your mother would never hide her expenses from me. She expected a punishment and I would not be doing my duty as her husband if I didn’t give it to her. Do you understand?”

He did not, at least not then, and Naiki shook his head to indicate the fact. A smile came to his father’s face and he explained further. “We all have our roles to play Naiki. Our roles as men are to provide for our family, to ensure that they are fed and that they are kept safe. A woman’s role is to be a good servant to her husband and a good slave to her family. Your mother did her role as expected of her. She obeyed a command from you, a man, but in doing so disobeyed an order from me, also a man.”

“That’s a no-win situation for her.”

“True and she was put in that position because of you.” His father said. “I am angry with you but the money was given to her and your mother was to control the expenses. She did not managed to do so because of you but what do you expect me to do?”

“Punish me!”

“Even though the money was never yours to control?” His father asked.  

“She is the servant and slave.” Naiki said. “Mother can’t say no to a male of House Kimitaka and I’m a male. So…why does she get the punishment?”

“Because the money was given to her.”

“That’s not fair father.” Naiki finally said.

“True,” his father nodded again. “But such is life and not just to your mother. You think I wanted to punish her even when I know she’s not at fault?”

Naiki knew the answer but he still had to ask. “So if I asked for money again in the future from mother…”

“If she gives it to you, and she would, I would have to punish her again. What does that tell you my boy?”

“Don’t ask for extra money in the future.”

“Why?”

“Because she would give it to me and mother would be punish for my mistake.” 

“Don’t put her in that position again Naiki. In Vippon, a woman’s place is directly tied to the men of her family. What you do affects not just you but your family as well. The men, we can handle ourselves, but women? Weak females which required our constant care and protection? They will suffer for your actions.”

Understanding suddenly dawned on the young Naiki. “And my role as a man is to protect the women of the family and to keep them safe. Safe from…you?”

Kei Kimitaka’s smile got wider as he realized his son was beginning to understand his role as a man. “In this case, yes. You want to protect your mother don’t you?”

“Of course.” Naiki silently vowed not to do anything that would harm his mother ever again. “That’s why I’m here right? To see the results of my…silly actions.”

“Then don’t do this ever again.” His father said. “Not just now but in the future as well. When you have your own wives, daughters and granddaughters, think of them when you want to do something. Think of the women you are protecting.”

Naiki nodded. “Is there anything else father?”

“You got that guitar with the money right?”

“…Yes”

“Make sure you practice. Don’t make your mother suffer for nothing.” Naiki nodded in agreement and his father continued. “Now go and apologized to your mother. She’s a good servant and slave to the house of Kimitaka.”

That was, is, his mother. A good woman, a good servant, a good slave, and a great mother. Naiki couldn’t help but think so as he sat beside the hospital bed of his mother. It’s strange what you would think of when you realized someone would soon not be with you ever again.

Over 40 years had passed since that day when Naiki realized the responsibility that came with being a man and though his father was the one who explained everything, his real teacher was his mother. His mother lying in front of him, dressed in a white hospital kimono, her head covered in a black hoodveil. His mother, who was dying in front of him.

“My lord? My lord, is that you? My lord?”

Naiki reached out to hold the hand of his mother and spoke softly, “No, mother. It’s me, Naiki. Your son.”

His mother’s eye shone with recognition. “Oh, Naiki. I…I thought I saw your father just now. I…I really wanted to see him again.” There were no words for him to speak. His father has been dead for over 10 years. “My boy, do you think I will see your father again? Do you think they will let me in? Do you think they will let me serve?”

“Yes, they will mother. For over 50 years, Koharu Kimitaka has been a great slave to the House of Kimitaka. Since her marriage, Koharu Kimitaka has been a great servant to her lord and master, Kei Kimitake. When you are gone, you will be received in heaven by our ancestors. They will welcome you into the Heavenly House of Kimitaka where you, and all the other good women in the history of our House, will serve for all eternally. Father will be there and when you arrive, he will be there to greet you. You will be his eternal servant, serving him for all eternity.”

The words broke his heart but nothing he said was untrue. Since her marriage, her mother has been a great servant to his father. Naiki knew for a fact there was no way his ancestors would deny his mother a place in heaven. Like his father said all those years ago; she was a good woman.

“My boy…my good boy.” His mother said. “My good boy.”

With that, his mother closed her eyes for the final time and was gone. Naiki felt tears coming out of his eyes and wiped them away. He took a moment to gather himself before standing up. His legs shook with emotions but he knew he shouldn’t wait. He walked out of the room into the corridor and went to the hospital shrine where his family was waiting.

He entered the shrine quietly. His sons and grandsons were all sitting on the benches at the back of the shrine and they all stood up when they saw him. His wives, daughter-in-laws and granddaughters were on their knees, praying at the front of the shrine. Naiki cleared his throat loudly and the women turned around on their knees.

“She is gone. Mother is now with our ancestors.” His sons and grandsons bowed their head in respect and some of his women started to sob. As women, they were allowed such show of public weakness. Naiki continued. “Go now and pay your last respects to her.”

Slowly, his family walked out of the shrine. When the last of them left, Naiki went and sat down on the bench. He put his head in his hands and cried. Now, alone in his grief, he can mourn.  

Meaning Of The Veil

Ling Ling closed her eyes with worry in her heart. Usually, she would be enjoying the wind that was blowing in her face but today was different. She opened her eyes and the sight that greeted her dismayed her.

She was still a distance from the hospital.

Ling Ling flicked the whip in her hand and although the sound of the whip hitting Xiao Fan eased her anxiety a little, it did little to change the situation. They were still far from the hospital and Ling Ling knew all the whipping in the world would do little to change the situation. Xiao Fan, the concubine, was already running as fast as possible.

The day had started normally with both of them greeting their husband as he left for work in the morning. After he had left, Ling Ling instructed Xiao Fan on the chores for the day before taking the children to school. She then met some other wives in the neighborhood for a tea session before the group went on a shopping trip at the mall.

It had been a normal relaxing day.

After the shopping trip, she had returned home to check on Xiao Fan’s work. Normally, the concubine would be on her knees as she opened the door but today, it was a very anxious standing Xiao Fan that greeted her. The concubine quickly informed her that soon after she had left, a phone call came saying that their husband was involved in an accident and was currently in hospital.

The duo quickly left for the hospital but as women, the only mode of transport available to them was the ponycart. The ponycart was a mode of transport that had been around in the country of Songhan since ancient times. Known as a rickshaw in olden days, the ponycart was basically a cart with 2 wheels and two long poles protruding from the front of the cart. Although the name had been changed, neither the design nor the use of the rickshaw/ponycart had. Just like in ancient times, the wife, Ling Ling, was seated on the ponycart while the concubine, Xiao Fan, was pulling it.

Not for the first time in her life, Ling Ling regretted the fact she was a female. If she had been born a male, she would be allowed to drive but as a woman, she was not allowed to even call for a taxi. In Songhan, females just do not go into a vehicle with a male stranger. Even public transport like buses and the subway catered only to men. If women want to go somewhere, they walked or like Ling Ling, use the ponycart. The unfairness of it all ate at her.

Here she was, a beautiful capable woman, and she had to followed ancient traditions set by her ancestors thousands of years ago. Not for the first time in her life, Ling Ling wished to have been born in another country other than Songhan, a country where women were not allowed to be anything other than wives and concubines, servants to their men and slaves to their families.

Ling Ling flicked the whip in her hand again.

Xiao Fan took the whip stoically, not seemingly affected by it. In a way, Ling Ling was pleased with this. She still remembered how poorly the concubine did as the puller of the cart when she first accepted her into the family. Like all concubines of Songhan, Xiao Fan wore a veil that covered the lower half of her face and she wasn't used to pulling the cart with the veil covering her nose and mouth. A problem Ling Ling solved by constant practice and liberal use of the whip.

In the six years since Xiao Fan became the concubine of the family, Ling Ling had trained the concubine with pain and humiliation into a concubine worthy of serving the family. The fact that the concubine was now pulling the cart with little effort was a testament to her training. However the distance they were covering was still not enough to satisfy her.

Ling Ling used the whip again.

After 30 minutes of suffering under the whip, an exhausted Xiao Fan finally reached the hospital. Ling Ling went into the hospital as the concubine parked the ponycart. In the lobby, she was met by the family. Her father-in-law, 2 mother-in-laws, her brother-in-law and sister-in-law were all there and the news was not good.

The accident was serious and her husband was now in surgery. The doctors had refused to tell the family how her husband was doing, only willing to say they would try their best to save him. That was never a good thing. By then, Xiao Fan had arrived and with all the women of the family present, her father-in-law ordered all of them to the hospital shrine to pray for the health of his eldest son.  

It was not an order any of them could refused and Ling Ling reluctantly went along. Never a religious person, Ling Ling nevertheless went through the rituals of respecting her ancestors and begging for help from the Celestial Heavens. Like always, the heavens did not answer her prayers and an hour later, the doctors asked the family to prepare for the worst.

It was then that her sister-in-law, Zong Ying, approached her. As the wives of the family, the two of them had gotten along well despite the differences in their personalities. Unlike Ling Ling, Zong Ying was one of those women who enjoyed their status as servants to their husband and slaves to their family. She firmly believed it was what women were born for and Ling Ling knew her sister-in-law took great joy in her submission to her husband. Ling Ling even suspected that her sister-in-law would be just as comfortable being a concubine as a wife as long as she got to serve her husband. So it surprised Ling Ling little that her sister-in-law would be the one speaking to her.

Death in the family, though unfortunate, was not unusual and the people of Songhan had long since had a tradition for such tragedies. In the event of a death of a male relative, his nearest male relatives were to take over his responsibilities as protector and provider of the deceased’s wife, concubines and children.

So it was with them. Ling Ling’s sister-in-law explained that the men had discussed the matter already and decided that her father-in-law would take Xiao Fan as his second concubine while her husband’s brother would take Ling Ling as a concubine. Their children would of course follow their mothers into their new families. Zong Ying then gave Ling Ling an item to signify her new position; a black veil to cover the lower half of her face.

Women in Songhan had to dress in accordance to the laws. Generally, whether they were wives or concubines, the sumptuary laws were similar. Their heads had to be covered in a black tudong, their bodies had to be covered in a non-fitting white blouse, and they had to wear white socks and black shoes that would make no sound when they walked.

There were however two main differences between wives and concubines. Wives were allowed to wear a black skirt that reaches their ankles while concubines were only allowed to wear pants, and whereas wives were allowed to show their faces in public, concubines must always covered the lower half of their faces with a veil.

The veil Zong Ying gave her was one that was worn only by concubines and Ling Ling knew if she accepted it, it would be her place for the rest of her life. She remembered her trip to the hospital and how freely she was with the whip. If she accepted this veil, she would no longer enjoy the wind in her face but be the one running and pulling, and being whipped by her mistress for her efforts. She would be the one who would never be allowed out of the house without supervision, who could never meet any outsiders without a veil covering her face. The wife of the house was the face the public sees; the concubine was nothing but the faceless servant. That was the meaning of the veil in Songhan.

That would be her fate if she accepts this veil.

Of course, she could reject the veil but the consequences would be harsh. Rejecting the veil meant rejecting the family and she would have to leave, either to a nunnery or back to her birth family. Ling Ling was pretty certain her father would accept her back but it would meant leaving her children behind. As the children of her husband, no court in Songhan would allow her to take her children with her. They must stay with her husband's family. She could leave the family, but her children could not.

Zong Ying touched her on the arm and pointed behind her. Ling Ling turned around and saw that Xian Fan had made her decision. The concubine was now lying flat on the ground with her face facing upwards to the ceiling. Above her, her father-in-law’s concubine was kneeling with her knees on either side of Xiao Fan’s head and her buttocks on Xiao Fan’s face.

Her father-in-law’s concubine in turn had her head bowed to the floor, at the feet of her father-in-law’s wife. This showed Xiao Fan’s new position as second concubine; a woman so low in worth she did not even deserve to be kneeling in the wife’s presence. From this day on, Xiao Fan would be a woman who was only worthy of being stepped on, a doormat for her new husband, new mistress and her new husband’s concubine.

Ling Ling felt for her. Six years ago when her husband became successful enough to warrant a concubine, Ling Ling had carefully selected Xiao Fan for the role. A plain looking woman born to a concubine, Xiao Fan’s score in school was not great. However all her teachers said that she worked hard and knew her place. Xiao Fan knew she was not beautiful enough to be a wife and had instead accepted the role given to her by the Celestial Heavens.

Her teachers were correct. Ling Ling found that although her concubine was not smart, beautiful or even all that capable, young Xiao Fan worked hard and accepted all punishment given to her as encouragement to do better. She was in short, a very good concubine and although Ling Ling was sure she would make a very good second concubine, she can’t help but felt Xiao Fan deserved better.

However Ling Ling wasn’t sure she had time to worry about other people right now. Of course like all women in Songhan, she always knew there was a chance of this happening. That one day, she would lose her position as the wife but that doesn’t mean she expected it to happen. She needed time to think but time was not something she had. Zong Ying squeezed her arm, wanting her to make a decision quickly.

To Zong Ying, this must seem like an easy decision and in a way, Ling Ling knew why her sister-in-law thought so. In Songhan, it was better to be a concubine than a widower and if she wanted to stay with her children, Ling Ling, like all women, didn’t really have a choice in the matter.

With regret, she put the veil on, knelt and bowed at the feet of Zong Ying. From this day forward, Zong Ying would be her mistress. 

The Birth of Hara

The girl was the perfect picture of a gentle and obedient Vipponese wife. Kneeling in her new house, the girl was silently awaiting her lord and husband for their first night as husband and wife. Today was her long awaited wedding day and she was excited...but you would never noticed it just by looking at her.

Kneeling on the floor in her white wedding kimono with matching white hoodveil, gloves and socks, the girl looked like she was not moving. You would be right. In Vipponese tradition, after a short introduction at the wedding dinner, the wife would be sent to the bedroom to wait silently for her husband, who would be at the dinner entertaining the guests. The girl had no orders from her husband except to wait silently for him, so that's what she was doing to do. She been training for the past 4 years for this day and had no intention of doing anything to displease her new husband.

Keeping with Vipponese tradition, the girl's father had taken her out of school at 13 years of age and since then, she had been undergoing marriage training. As part of the training, she was only allowed to wear a dowdy gray kimono with a hoodveil covering her face. A hood that covered her head with a veil covering the lower half of her face, the hoodveil only showed her eyes to her family and, on the rare occasion when she was allowed out of the house with a chaperone, the public.

The girl did not know how long she had been kneeling but she knew it did not matter. Her husband would come for her when he was ready. It was his choice. Still, her knees had began to hurt and she silently hope her husband would come soon. If she had said this out to her mother, her mother would have told her that her training was incomplete.

The girl would not have agreed as her marriage training was all compressing. The girl was only allowed to sleep in the kitchen of her old house on a thin mattress with only a blanket and pillow for company, and had to serve, clean and cook for the men of the family. The girl became a servant to the family. No, that was incorrect. Without another daughter in the family, she was the lowest person there, below even her mother. Her mother was the servant of the family; the girl was just a servant in training.

One more reason why she was looking forward to today.

As if answering her silent prayers, the door of her bedroom opened. The girl took a quick look at the man entering the door and saw that it was her husband wearing only a loose robe. The girl bow her head to the ground. The girl stayed in place as he walked around her, carefully inspecting his new wife, servant and slave.

"Stand"

The girl stood immediately despite the protest of her knees, obeying the first order given to her by her husband. She folded her hand in front of her and look down submissively at the ground. 

"Bend over"

The girl obeyed again. Bending over, she put her hands on her knees. A slap to her buttocks came almost immediately. The girl felt the sting of the slap but kept silence and maintained her position. Her husband used his hand to spank her again. Again the girl did not moved.

"Did you know what you did wrong?"

The girl had no idea. She answered that she did not and begged her husband to enlightened her.

"You are wearing clothes in the bedroom"

In Vippon, many men want their wives to be naked in the bedroom. It wasn't what you called a common practice but it happened so often that it was hardly unusual. The girl had no orders to be naked but it seem her husband is a follower of the practice and was displeased that his new wife was wearing clothes. The girl stored the information for the future and begged forgiveness from her husband.

"Take off your clothes"

The girl quickly obeyed. In seconds, her wedding kimono, gloves, socks and underwear were neatly folded on the ground. The girl then got back to her position. She bended over with her hands on her knees, wearing only her hoodveil. Her husband then moved his hand between her legs and was disappointed with what he found.

"You are not ready." Her husband said as he slapped her buttocks again. "Get yourself ready wife."

The girl moved her hand to her hole, rubbing it furiously to get herself wet for her husband. Her punishment was not quite over. As she desperately rubbed herself, her husband continued spanking her. The pain did not help the girl, she was never trained to accept pain as pleasure, but it did not deter her also. Countless slaps later, the girl was overjoyed to announced to her husband that she was ready.

Her husband checked and ordered her to the futon. The girl gingerly laid on the futon and opened her legs. Her husband did not waste any time. Opening his robe, her husband entered her immediately. The girl was embarrassed to discover that her husband was more ready for their wedding night than she was and vowed never to make the same silly mistake again. As a wife, the girl was at her husband's beck and call, not the other way around. A wife should always be ready for her husband. Her husband was, quickly coming to a climax.

"I shall call you Hara"

Her husband released as he made the pronouncement and the woman known as Hara was born. In Vippon, when a woman marry, she was leaving her old family to join a new one. In ancient times, it was common practice for the man to give the woman a new name on their wedding night, to symbolized the act of marriage.

As her husband withdraw himself from her, the woman known as Hara thanked her husband for her new name and promised to give him many strong sons. He husband grunted his approval and went to switch off the lights. As the lights went out, the girl was no more. In her place was the woman known as Hara, and she was content. She had been training for this day for the past 4 years and she was finally here.

She was now a wife. 

New In Dubai (Part 3)

The Sale

The Dubai Mall is the largest shopping mall in the world. It has more than 1,200 shops and at over 13 million square foot, it is the size of more than 50 football pitches. It is also the place where Zara would be sold.

At its height, over 750,000 visitors visit the Dubai Mall every week. After “The Plot” however, tourist numbers throughout the world plunged into an abyss that the tourism sector never quite recovered from. The Dubai Mall with its 250-room luxury hotel, 22 cinema screens, 120 restaurants and cafes, became a virtual ghost town.

With all the open space came an opportunity.

When the Dubai government wanted a central location to regulate all the returning slave trade, the Mall was the logical place to do it. It was big, spacious, well-known, and unused. A decision that the people of the region  agreed with as the Dubai Mall has now become the central slave market of not just Dubai, but the whole Middle East. None of this mattered to Zara as the door of the IIC opened.

Her uncle Johari led her by the arm through the mall and Zara felt nothing but shame. After the session in the IIC, she now knew the evil within her and wanted nothing but to be locked back into the darkness of the IIC. Even though she was gagged, shackled and hunched over, Zara felt shame even at the fact she was walking in public. She felt unworthy of even standing and not for the first time, secretly wished that her uncle was one of the men who do not allow their women to walk but only to crawl on all fours. It was nothing less than what women deserved.

However she wasn't going to defy her uncle. She was going to be sold today. She only prayed that her new owner would be that strict with her. 

Uncle Johari led Stephanie to a set of doors with a sign that state "Auction: Authorized Personal Only" above it. They entered the room and Zara was immediately overwhelmed.

The room was filled with over a hundred people, most of whom were women. Most of them were hunched over like her in her niqab, but some were naked with only their gag on them. If not for her gag, she would have cried out in shock.

Putting a hand on her arm, Uncle Johari began to lead Stephanie through the crowd. She was led to a man sitting behind a counter that was filled with files and documents.

“Johari Dhall, here for the sale of his niece Zara.”

The man behind the table looked up at Uncle Johari and picked up a piece of paper on the counter. After looking through it, he took out a piece of paper and a look of surprise came to his face.

“Everything seems in order Mr. Dhall but…”

“Is there a problem?”

“Well, it states here you imposed 3 criteria for the buyers. Buyer must be a Muslim, a citizen from the Emirates and…payment must be in cash?”

“Yes, that’s correct. Is there anything wrong?”

“Well no but…Mr. Dhall, these conditions will severely affect your selling price. Your girl is young but well, from the photos, she’s not a great beauty. You will not get a good price with these conditions.”

“Which will affect the 10% cut the government takes from every sale.”

“Now that’s not…”

“I understand perfectly where you’re coming from but a seller is allowed to impose a maximum of 3 conditions right?” Silence was answer enough. “So again I ask; it there anything wrong?”

“No there isn’t.” The officer stamped something on the piece of paper and then said something that surprised Zara. “Let’s see her then.”

Zara now knew why so many of the women in the room were naked as her Uncle Johari methodically took her chains away from her. First to come off was the silver chain linking her two pairs of cuffs. Her uncle then released Zara from her cuffs themselves, both on her feet and hands, leaving her unshackled in public for the first time in years. Zara was still getting used to being unchained when her uncle ordered her to undress herself.

It’s a show of her training that Zara complied without thinking. Before she realized what she was doing, Zara had already taken off her niqaab. Only after she realized she was showing her face in public did she hesitated. Her uncle waved her to continue on.

Soon her dress, gloves and socks were all on the ground and Zara was standing there naked with only her gag. She felt strange; ashamed at her nakedness but at the same time proud of how well she obeyed the orders of her uncle.

The officer looked at her naked form and stamped her paper again. “Okay, we’ll take her from here.”

A second later, another man showed up. After a quick word from the officer, the officer handed the man the piece of paper showing her information. The man then locked a collar around the neck of Zara and pulled on the leash attached to the collar. Zara took a quick look to her uncle who motioned for Zara to follow the man.

The man pulled Zara and the duo slowly walked to the other side of the room and out through a door. Slowly walking down a corridor, they made a turn at the end of the corridor. Zara could tell that the man was enjoying leading her by a leash. Still it was nothing less than normal and Zara quietly followed the man.

They went through another open door and that was when Zara first saw what was in store for her.

A row of naked women were standing at the far wall of the room but Zara did not have time to stare. The man pulled her to the wall and led her to the front of the line. Zara did not need an order to understand she need to stand alongside the women. After she did so, the man locked her leash to a bar above her. He then left.

Left in the room, Zara waited quietly with the other women. The women could not speak with each other due to their gags and a silent tension steadily built in the room. It was only broken occasionally when the man came in leading other women on their leashes. He always left after locking the women to the bar and never spoke to the women.

Zara soon found herself shivering from the tension.

Wanting to stop the shivering, Zara went to the method that had always served her well; trying to think of something to take her mind off her current situation. Her thoughts went to the Dubai Mall.

She remember the first time she visited the Dubai Aquarium and Discovery Centre. She remembered spending a wonderful afternoon watching the beautiful fishes swimming leisurely in the huge tanks, before having dinner with her family in one of the Mall's 120 restaurants and cafes. Zara remembered the Dubai Mall as it was, not as it is now; the central slave market of the Middle East.

Her thoughts were interrupted when a man dressed like a guard came in. He was followed by another man, a fat man dressed in a white Arabic robe. The guard was holding a file and looked over the row of women before checking something on his file.

"So, Zara Dhall? She's up first?" Zara realized he was looking at the paper the officer handed to the man earlier.

"Yes," the fat man said. "Her uncle want to sell her cheap. Poor girl must have pissed him off somehow."

What? Panic filled Zara. Was Uncle Johari angry with her? Did she do something wrong? Wait, was being sold cheap even a bad thing? She had no idea and the lack of knowledge made her panic even worse.

"None of our business." The guard said. "Nothing matters to us but the sale."

The fat man walked to the centre of the room and looked over the women who stood with their eyes to the ground.

"Okay, if any of you slaves do not know yet let me tell you now. You are here to be sold. In a few hours, all of you will be at the home of your new master who, hopefully for all our sakes, will keep you all from killing the world again." Zara let the insult washed over her. It was nothing but the truth. The fat man continued. "What's going to happen now is very simple. We will now proceed to the stage where all of you will first be covered in a burqa and then you will all take turns, one by one, walk down a catwalk. You will then walk back to the centre of the stage where we will take the burqa off. You will then walk back down the catwalk naked where I will try my best to sell you all off." So the fat man was the auctioneer and had a low view of women. Somehow Zara wasn't surprised.

"Now one more thing," the auctioneer said smiling. "Smile when you're out there."

Zara would have laughed if not for her gag. Everyone was telling her to smile today!

The auctioneer gave a signal to the guard and he began to unlock the women from the bar above them. He then chained the women to each other, locking their leashes to the collar of the women next to her. As Zara was the lead girl, the man took her leash and Zara obediently followed him. They went out of the room and down a corridor where they entered through a double-door.

This was where Zara first saw the stage. Elevated a few feet off the main floor was a T-shaped stage that was brightly lit with floodlights, Zara could see there were arrow signs on the edges of the runway which indicate the side where the women were supposed to walk to the front, and the side of the stage where they were supposed to walk back. The man leading gave a sharp tug on her leash and the row of women were on their way again.

The guard led the line of women to the back of the stage where all the women were made to kneel against a wall. Their leash was then locked to a ring on the floor and then, once again, they were left alone.  After half an hour, Zara's knees began to hurt but she knew better than to make any complaint. An hour later, there was finally some movement. The sound from the front of the stage began to increase and Zara knew the auction would start soon.  

The man came back pushing a trolley and he unlocked Zara from the floor. He motioned her to stand. Zara did as ordered and the guard picked up a piece of cloth from the trolley. Zara did not know why but he showed it to her; it was a beautiful white burqa.

Zara stood there stunned. The burqa must have cost hundreds...at least! 

Zara was still stunned when he put the burqa over her and led her to the stage. Only when she saw the bright lights of the stage and heard the soft Arabic music in the background did she came back to her senses and realized where she was. There must have been over 50 men there looking at her. She immediately remember what she need to do.

Step by step, she slowly walked down the runway. She put her head down, hoping to show the crowd the perfect submissive woman. For all her nerves,  Zara found that she wasn't all that unhappy being up there on the stage. Being up there, the centre of attention of all these men; it wasn't an unpleasant feeling. 

The runway wasn't that long and almost too soon, the walk was over for Zara. She found herself in the centre of the stage where the guard and the auctioneer came to stand beside her. The auctioneer began;

"Welcome gentlemen! Welcome to the sale of the latest meat of Dubai!"

The men in room hollered and cheered! Zara's heart fell and lifted at the same time. Terrified that she was considered nothing but meat to these men but at the same time glad that anyone who bought her today would clearly keep her in control. As the auctioneer continued his sales pitch, the guard took her burqa off.

Her shivering returned as she stood naked in front of the men with nothing on but her gag, collar and leash. The guard was the one who surprisingly came to her rescue. "Walk slave." Zara unthinkingly responded to the whisper. She slowly walked back down the runway again, only this time naked. She got to the end of the runway and discovered she didn't know what to do. Does she walked back? Do she just stand there? She didn't have any orders. When left with that situation, she did what came naturally.

She knelt and bowed her head to the ground.

It was the right move as the bidding went faster. Zara could immediately hear the auctioneer quickly recognizing one bid after another. The bidding quickly goes on till the winning bid settled on six hundred dollars.

Zara quickly felt the guard coming up to her. He took her leash and pulled her along. Crawling on her hands and knees, Zara followed the man to the centre of the stage and through the back. Zara only stopped when the man did. He spoke to another man and Zara quickly heard that this man was her new owner.  She kept her eyes to the ground, not wanting to disrespect her new owner. The man left and Zara was left with her new owner. Zara saw the foot of another man.

"Look up Zara."

Zara recognized the voice. She looked up and in shock, saw her uncle. Her uncle bend over and unlock her from her gag.

"Uncle Johari?"

Her uncle nodded and pointed to her new owner. "I believe you met Sharif before." Zara noticed her owner for the first time and saw that he was familiar.

"It's been awhile Zara." Her new owner said and Zara remembered him. He was the son of one of her father's friends. They used to play together when they were children.

"Uncle Johari, what's going on?"

"Well, Sharif's father knew you were going to be sold and approached me for permission to buy you for his son. I agreed."

"But...is that legal? I mean the slave market. They allow this?"

"You were on sale and I bought you." Her new owner said.

"True," Uncle Johari said. "The fact that your new owner and your old guardian has a private agreement beforehand is...well, a grey area."

The two men laughed in agreement and Zara now knew why her uncle put it those conditions and wanted to sell her cheap. He already knew who her new owner would be. Despite what her uncle said, Zara was pretty sure it was illegal. After "The Plot", women outnumbered men by a hefty margin and one of the main purpose of the slave market was to make sure all the men had an equal chance at the women on offer. Men had the choice and all men had an equal choice. That did not happen in her case and her uncle did it for her!

Her uncle took a risk and made sure she would go to someone who knew and cared for her. Zara didn't need anyone to tell her of the risk he took. She also knew there was nothing she could do to repay his kindness.

So she did the only thing she could. She smiled! 

New In Dubai (Part 2)

The Preparation

Later in life, when she looked back at the day of her sale, Zara would find difficulty in remembering what happened after hearing the news from Amir. She would vaguely remember doing her chores with the rest of the women; the cleaning, cooking, and serving, but she would be unable to recall any other details.

Only when her uncle, Johairi, ordered her to be bathed would her memory returned.  She would remember stepping into the bathtub, squatting down to pee as water ran over her skin. It was a welcome and rare sensation as women in the Dhall household were only allowed one shower per week. Rarer still was the fact that 2 older women, her mother and one of her aunts, were in charge of cleaning her. Zara knew the 2 older women were washing her for her sale but she was glad her mother was with her anyway. The death of her father had hit her the hardest but she fought through her despair and in the ensuring years, she had been there for Zara and Amir, showing her children their place in this new world.

“Remember to smile,” Zara looked at her mother who repeated herself. “Your smile is your most beautiful feature. When you are up there, remember to smile.”

Her mother’s love for her children was without question but it was still a surprise when she hugged Zara. Standing in the shower naked except for their collars, mother and daughter hugged each other for the last time.

Mother and daughter left the shower and after drying herself with a towel, Zara stepped out of the bathroom to see that a meal had been prepared for her.  Unlike the men who had proper meals prepared for them by the women, the women of the Dhall household usually ate simple food like rice or oatmeal with a bowl of plain water. It was still far better than other households. Uncle Johairi made sure all the food for the women were halal, something that couldn’t be said for every household in the Middle East as many people believed the sin of women were so high it was just a waste of time for them to try to follow God’s word.

Here in front of her however was a proper meal with chicken, vegetables, milk and even a mezze. The whole household was there with the women kneeling at attention on one side of the room and the 4 men of the Dhall household standing on the other. Standing in front of everyone was her Uncle Johairi.

The middle son of 3 boys, her uncle took responsibility for the sons, wives and daughters of his dead brothers when both of them fell to the disease. Zara knew it must have been a hard slog for him as it couldn’t be easy to be the sole man taking care of 14 people, 10 of whom were women. Despite all that had happened, Uncle Johairi never lost his innate kindness. Kindness that many would argue women do not deserved.

“Have a good meal Zara,” Uncle Johairi said. “Then we need to go.”

Zara did the only thing she could to show her gratitude; she knelt and bowed her head to ground. Slowly, she crawled to the submission plates on the floor. The food were place in dishes that were originally designed for dogs but in the years since the practice started, people had started to call them submission plates or "subplates" for short.

With her hands behind her head, Zara began to eat.

The food was delicious and Zara ate greedily. It has been some years since she ate anything like this outside the holidays, and she was sure her mother, aunts and cousins put in some time to get it perfect for her farewell. She didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

The meal ended too quickly and Zara found herself been guided to the living room where she was dressed for the public. First was the embarrassing but necessary diaper that Zara put on quickly. After that, came her gag. Designed to be a replica of a male tool with Islamic verses written on it, the gag was attached to a leather strap which Zara's aunts helped buckled behind her head. Zara felt the gag in her mouth and noticed that it was different from her usual gag which she had for the past few years. In another example of his kindness, Uncle Johari must have had it made especially for this day.

Zara then put on a long-sleeved black dress that reached her ankles, ankles that were covered by a pair of black socks. The dress was two sizes too big for her but nowadays, that's the accepted and expected practice in the Middle East. A thick black scarf of the same material was then placed over her head and her mother put on Zara's niqaab. The thick black veil was fastened above her eyes and only a tiny slit was allowed for her vision. Zara then held her hand forward together and her aunts covered them in a pair of black gloves. Her mother then cuffed her hands together with a pair of black handcuffs while an aunt cuffed her ankles together with another pair. Finally her mother knelt before her and linked the two pairs of cuffs together with a short silver chain. The short silver chain prevented Zara from standing upright and Zara had to stand with her back hunched. Her uncle may be kind but he was also devout. He followed the Islamic ruling that women should not be allowed to stand upright in public. In truth, Zara couldn’t say she disagreed.

“Zara,” Uncle Johairi kindly said. “Say goodbye to the family.”

Zara looked to her kneeling mother and was immediately hugged by her. A hug that was soon joined by the other women of the family.The group hug was only finally broken up by the soft sad command of her uncle. 

“Zara,” Uncle Johairi said. “We need to go.”

Her mother with tears in her eyes released her hug and whispered her final advice to Zara, “Remember to smile.”

Zara looked at her mother and did the only thing she could. She nodded. The women of the family moved back a step as Zara felt a hand on her elbow.

"We need to go Zara," her uncle said.

Cuffed, silenced, and hobbled, Zara was led to the driveway where the family car waited. Like most family vehicles in Dubai, the rear doors of the car were bigger than the front and the reason was waiting for her.

The Islamic Isolation Cube, widely known as the IIC for short, and was based on an American design. In the ironic aftermath of The Plot, nations around the world had truly joined together. With the shortage of men throughout the world, the remaining men of the world had to help each other in the control of women. Ideas and technology of how to control women were freely shared between nations and the IIC was just one example.

A cube-like machine, the IIC was officially designed for the safe transport of women over long distances but everyone knew and understood the real reason for the IIC. To strictly control women even when they are out of the house and to isolate the world from their evil.In the Middle East, the movement of women is strictly controlled but even in this region, sometimes there was a need for them to go out in public. In such situations, there is a need to control what a woman can do and see. The IIC was the result of such concerns. It is to provide a safe, isolated, and controlled way to move women from one location to another.

Amir opened the door of the IIC and as her uncle led Zara into the machine, Amir gave a friendly smile to her. Zara nodded in return, glad that her brother was there to send her off. She had no hard feelings at Amir’s actions this morning as it was nothing but what she, and all other women in the world, deserved. She was old enough to know that it wasn’t always this way, but everything changed due to “The Plot” and she was about to get a history lesson;a lesson to remind women of their horrible nature.

Zara was grateful for the soft cushions of the chair in the IIC. There were many families who do not care to spend such expenses for the comfort of their women, and it was another show of the concern and kindness of her uncle. As Zara sat comfortably in the chair within the IIC, her uncle strapped her in with the leather straps that came with the chair.

Kind as he was, there were some things even he can't get away with. Locking a woman in the IIC was one of them. Uncle Johari used the straps to lock Zara's hands, legs, body, and head in place and after making sure she was as secure and comfortable as possible, he closed the door to the IIC. A brief darkness surrounded Zara before her history lesson then started.

A screen lit up in front of Zara's face and with her head locked in position she had no choice but to look at it. A strong male voice sang an Islamic verse. Within the dark and soundproof IIC, the idea was that the screen and the voice would become Zara's world.  Zara had to agree it was a good idea.

The lesson started with a picture;a picture of dead bodies. A picture showing thousands and thousands of dead bodies laying in the desert. Laying there because there was just no place in the morgue to house them. The male voice of the IIC then told Zara of the horror of "The Plot". Of how 7 years ago, a flu-like disease swept the globe and changed the world.

At first the world thought it was another worldwide flu epidemic like the 1918 Spanish Flu, but events soon proved that this was no ordinary pandemic. In 1918, those infected by the Spanish Flu had a mortality rate of 10%, this disease however had a mortality rate closer to 25%.

As the disease spread, the world soon realized a strange characteristic of the disease. The disease affected men more than women to a degree unseen of throughout history. Throughout the world, men died in the millions while women died only in the hundreds. The world soon discovered why as news came that the disease sweeping the globe was in fact a man-made virus.

Traditional enemies immediately began to blame each other for manufacturing the disease. Even though no one had any evidence, fear, panic and unfounded accusation led to wars throughout the world. In the Middle East, a short and bloody war now known as the “Months of Mistakes” erupted.The war made Mecca a nuclear wasteland and Jerusalem a chemically uninhabitable city. The screen in front of Zara showed the destruction of the Great Mosque in Mecca as well as what was left of the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem. Throughout she had seen the pictures countless times, Zara still feel the horror of seeing the two holy cities of Islam in ruins. She wanted nothing but to closed her eyes but she crushed her desire and cursed her own weakness. This was the truth and as a woman, like all women, she needed to be reminded of the evil her gender was capable of.

Memories of the day when a then 9 year old Zara lost her father came flooding back.

Mohammad Dhall was a fit, healthy man, a loving father and husband, but the disease took no notice. It took him to Allah along with millions of others. Zara remembered that day clearly when news came from the hospital that his father had fallen to the disease. The disease spread so quickly that no one knew anything about it and patients had to be quarantined for the public’s safety. So her father died alone, without his family beside him. A heartbreak that was soon compounded when her 2 year old brother, Iskander, also fell to the disease.

The history lesson in the IIC continued on.

As disease and global war made Earth a living hell, a discovery changed everything. The news came from the Americans. The American government, or what’s left of it by then, announced to the world they had uncovered the origin of the disease. Zara still remember that day when crowding around the television, her surviving family members heard the news that the disease was not a man-made; it was a woman-made disease. 

Now commonly known as “The Plot”, the disease was invented by a group of militant women with a devious aim. These women desired a world where there was female dominance of the planet and to achieve this, they decided to knowingly kill millions of men throughout the world.

The news spread throughout the world like a firestorm. Unless you were in the deepest jungle of the Amazon, there was no way anyone would have missed the news of “The Plot” and the plans of the women involved. To make matters worse, the American government informed the world that the women in America had help in inventing and spreading the disease. The disease had spread too quickly throughout the world and the Americans believed there was no way the women could have been so successful without help from other like-minded groups in the invention and spread of the disease. This was a plot that had worldwide global help but with the American population so depleted due to the disease, they found that they no longer have the necessary resources to find all these women.

That was the reason they made the information public. They were asking for information and help from other governments in tracking down these collaborators. So began the worldwide witch-hunt for the collaborators of “The Plot”.

It was a hunt everyone wanted in on.

Every family has lost at least some male family members to the disease and in a region like the Middle East where family is everything, vengeance was on the mind of everyone. Women who had lost sons, fathers, and husbands, were especially “helpful” in tracking down the collaborators but when the first collaborators were captured and trialed, the information that came out were more infuriating than satisfying. 

It was another period of time Zara could remember clearly. The collaborators could be divided into 2 groups. The few women who had full knowledge of the plan and knew what they were doing, and the majority of the plotters who did not. Most of these secondary collaborators swore by the Koran they had no idea they were helping to spread a disease to kill their own family members, much less 25% of the male population in the world. Even the few women who did know of the actual plan were surprised by how well it worked. To these women, the plan was kill “some” of the male populations of the world, not 1 out of every 4 of them.  The shame and horror Zara felt when it was revealed that women, not men, were responsible for the deaths of millions were compounded by the fact these women thought that it was okay to just killed "some" of the men.

Needless to say, all these women, even those who did not have first-hand knowledge of what "The Plot" was doing, were executed. Unlike the soft West, ignorance was not considered a reasonable excuse when millions of bodies were already in the ground.

The wars that started due to the disease stopped almost immediately when “The Plot” was discovered but by then the damage was done. Not only had millions been killed, and cities destroyed, the disease continued to spread unabated. Drugs were created to slow and combat the disease but men still died in the tens of thousands. However the months after the “Months of Mistakes” were not just a period of mourning, but also a period when the world showed its resilience.

The World Health Organization received help from almost every major country and the United Nations, which had helped in the suing for peace throughout the world, passed a UN treaty that banned the right to go to war for 100 years.

Frankly, it wasn’t all that difficult as no one was interested in more deaths but it was a great giant step for humankind. Grievances between nations, races and even religions, were all put aside as everyone wanted to rebuild what the women took away. It was the same in the Middle East as every nation laid down its arms to start rebuilding. Food, technology, building materials; anything that was needed for the rebuilding was willingly and happily shared by everyone. However with the rebuilding came the need to ensure that what had happened would never happen again. With that need, came a small miracle.

The UN came with a non-binding treaty that banned the right to vote for women throughout the world. In the aftermath of the horror of "The Plot", the treaty passed easily but it was the decision of the various countries of the world whether to implement the treaty. Zara had heard rumors that there were still some countries in the world that still foolishly allow the vote to women, but in the Middle East there was never any doubt all countries would implement the treaty. This was when the miracle happened.

The screen in front of Zara showed the press conference where senior religious leaders from Islam, Christianity and Judaism from all sects came together to support the treaty and urged all people of the faith, of any faith, to support it as well. A civil law now came with universal religious consent and the people took to it with vigor. Strict laws were passed banning women from all jobs but the most mundane and menial. Strict laws were passed in the control and confinement of women. Strict sumptuary laws were passed to control the dressing of women in public and private settings. In short, anything and everything a woman did was controlled and harsh punishment was issued to anyone caught flouting the laws.

The program in the IIC ended with scenes of the rebuilding the world had undertaken in the years since “The Plot” was discovered. Saudi Arabic was building a new city called New Mecca; Iran hosted a conference where senior Sunni and Shite clerics came together promising peace between the two major sects of Islam; religious leaders from Islam, Christianity and Judaism were discussing a new site to build a New Jerusalem; and the peace was shared throughout the world. The final scene of the lesion was that of a museum and monument was under construction in Geneva for the men killed by “The Plot”.

With the end of the lesson, the IIC became dark with only the sound of Islamic music in the background. Zara closed her eyes to enjoy the sweet sound of the music when it suddenly stopped. The screen then lighted up and Zara opened her eyes. This time the program started with a woman confessing proudly to "The Plot". 

Zara knew her. 

She was Mia Limburg, an Israeli woman who was one of the leaders of "The Plot" in the Middle East. Zara had seen this program before when she was taken on a long trip to Abu Dhabi last year. The program would show a series of confessions from the women involved in "The Plot" and while some like Mia Limburg were proud of their work, most were horrified by the results of their actions. 

Zara sat in the darkness with her eyes closed, listening to the confessions of these women and silently glad of the control the men had in her life. Zara had no illusions of herself; she was just a normal girl and if she had been born 10 or 20 years earlier, she would had grown up in a time when women had more freedom. Freedom like what these women had; freedom that allowed them (willingly or unwillingly) to join a mad plot that killed millions of men.

No, it was better now with women taken out of public life, being fully controlled by their men. Zara tugged at the chains and straps confining her. They did not give her an inch of freedom and Zara was relieved. These hateful women who proved once and for all that women should never be free. With her confinement, the world was still at peace. 

New In Dubai

The Announcement

Zara woke in the same place she had woken up to in the past 5 years; in noisy darkness.

Like always, Zara extended her body once awake and hit the soft, smooth fabric that engulfed her. Like all women of Dubai nowadays, Zara slept in a black body bag. Wide enough to cover her body in full, it was however perfectly designed to only allow her to sleep with her knees curled up to her body.

With the incessant ringing of the room alarm in the background, Zara got up to her hands and knees. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, tried to stand up and...hit her head against the bars of the cage. The knock woke her up fully and Zara cursed herself for her own stupidity. Her sleepy brain had made her forgot that she was still in her cage and Zara again scolded herself for forgetting her place.

This is her life now; sleeping in a body bag in a small cage. Not only that, she was naked with only a collar around her neck and diapers to control her bodily fluids. Zara took a breath in the darkness, controlling herself. She remained herself this is nothing special. All other women in Dubai now sleep like this, some probably in worse conditions. Silently she made her daily vow to accept this position as her deserved lot in life.

Her control back, Zara put her hands on the ground and waited patiently for the morning release. She knew the other women of the Dhall household were doing the same thing. Waking up like her, all of them were also dressed like her; naked except for a collar and a diaper. The only other accessory the women were allowed was a pendant showing the name of "Dhall" hanging from the front of the collar. An example showing that they were owned and controlled. Freedom is something women no longer deserved.

This is the way it should be. Freedom for women had cost the world too much and Zara could only hope the men of the world would not make the same mistake ever again. The footsteps of the men were clearly heard a few moments later and Zara heard the door of the room being opened. Slowly, she heard the sounds of the cages being opened one by one.

When she heard her cage being opened, Zara immediately started to crawl out. Still in the darkness of her body bag, Zara felt a hand on her neck and followed its direction, not too gently, crawling to the centre of the room. An increase in pressure by the hand told her to stop. The hand then released her neck and a moment later, Zara heard another cage being opened.

Zara knew from memory that the cages were placed on both sides of the room and apart from each other. There was a certain hierarchy in the positioning of the cages. The older women had their cages nearer to the door of the female room while the younger girls had their cages at the back of the room. The bars of the cages were small so that the women could not reach out to touch one another even if they managed to get out of their bags. Though they were confined to their body bags, on one wanted to take any chances with the women being free without male supervision.

Zara waited as the sound of the cages being opened finally stopped. Minutes later, she felt her body bag being opened. Crawling out of it, she made sure her eyes were on the ground the whole time.Once fully out of the bag, Zara lowered her head to the ground. The man was satisfied with her show of submission and went on the next woman.On all fours, Zara waited for him to finish and give her the daily inspection.

“Stand and attention”

Zara recognized that the squeaky male voice belonged to her younger brother Amir who at 14 was the youngest surviving man in the Dhall family. His age did not matter as all the women stood up at his command and stood at attention. Standing with her feet wide apart, Zara raised her arms up and interlocked her fingers behind her head. With her head looking up, she pushed her shoulders back, thrusting her breasts forward. She also made sure to have a big smile on her face. Beside, in front and behind her, all the other women of the Dhall family did the same.

Any discomfort Amir had in seeing 10 women naked and standing at attention in front of him was destroyed long ago. Seeing that everyone was ready, Amir started the inspection. There were 10 women in the house but as she was near the head of the line today, it only took moments before Amir got to her. Zara was slightly surprised that he was alone today as usually when he was here, there would be another male with him. Zara guessed this meant her younger brother was growing up and her smile got wider. 

Still, Zara did not envy him. She knew Amir had to be careful. It’s the responsibility of the younger men to make sure the women were properly maintained and it was a heavy responsibility. No one wanted another “plot” and the only way to prevent it was to make sure all women were controlled and shackled.

When Amir reached Zara, she steeled herself for his inspection. Unlike the naked women, Amir was wearing a traditional long-sleeved white Arabic robe with a white keffiyeh on his head. He was also wearing surgical gloves, and with them Amir’s hands first touched Zara’s armpits. After making sure they were properly shaved, his hands moved towards her breasts. He gave them each of her nipples a firm, and for Zara, painful tug. Zara said and did nothing outside making sure her smile was in place. Even when Amir’s hand slapped her face, once on each cheek, her smile never left its place. Instead she embraced the sting on her cheeks and thanked her brother for reminding her of her place.

“Thank you brother”

Her dry throat protested at being used without a drink of water first but Zara knew food and water would only come after the inspection. Her brother ignored her as was his right and moved on to the next woman.

Eventually, Amir finished with his round of inspection and stood back in front of the women. It was time for the second, more humiliatingly, round of inspection.

"Babies, release your diapers."

Zara still feel a sting in her heart at being called a baby but knew Amir was right. The legal status of women in Dubai now was that of a newborn. In legal terms, women were considered babies who could never grow up and as such must be fully "taken care of" at all times.

Zara released her diapers and carefully dropped them to the ground. The smell of 10 used diapers filled the room but none of the women cared. It was something they had smelled on a daily basis for years. Amir however rubbed his nose at it.  

“Stand and attention”

Zara and the women got back into attention at Amir's command and he began his second round of inspection.

When he reached her again, Amir first reached down between her legs to softly make sure there was no stubble in the area. Zara felt great shame at this but you would never notice it just by looking at her. Her smile was still in place when Amir gave her another command.

Zara bended over and with her hands on her buttocks, pushed open her ass for her younger brother. She felt his hand with his dirty glove go into her and in her heart, Zara fought to stay in place. Like always, she won. Amir was checking if she had hid any items inside her and Zara again remained herself this was nothing but what she and all women in the world deserved. She told herself the world could take no changes when it came to the danger posed by women.

“Kneel”

Amir's command came the moment his hand was out of her and Zara immediately knelt on command. Amir moved his hand (which was just in her) over her head, petting her like a pet and at the same time checking to make sure her head was properly shaved. Like all women in Dubai, in accordance to the law, Zara’s head was bald. In fact, outside her eyebrows all other areas of her body were shorn of hair. Women throughout history had taken great care of their beauty and their hair was always considered important.

Not anymore.

The second inspection went as expected, there were no problems with the women of Dhall. Humiliating as it was, all the women knew it was necessary and thrived to keep themselves properly maintained. Amir was soon in front of the women again. He took out a piece of paper and began to read out their chores of the days. Zara heard her name being called and what she was supposed to do today. Zara thought she must have misheard but when the other women turned to watch her, she knew otherwise. Uncle Johari would have to punish them later for breaking from attention without permission, but that would come later and she wouldn't be around by then. Hoping to show confidence even when she felt none, she forced her smile wider.

As Amir turned to leave the room, Zara bowed her head to the ground with her hands still behind her head. She made sure her ass was high in air as she, along with the rest of the women, thanked Amir for his presence. She forced her voice to be cheerful but her heart was pounding.

Today, she was going to be sold.

Special thanks to J. Kreeg. This story is set in the same world as his "New In Town" story which is posted in the free Yahoo group, Confining Clothing (https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/confiningclothing/info). If you wish to know more about the world, please join the group for free and look under the Files section for the folder "Kreeg's Stories". Thanks