Will the colourful birds of noon cease to flap their wings, will the moon sing her a song tonight? This, Tiri could not tell, as the gentle breeze that came in through the open window behind her, blew her long black, already dirty hair off her face. Uncle Dunja had come to visit after a long time yesterday, not like anyone had wanted him to come around anyways.
Tiri wished she had not gone to open the door, when she heard the knock; because, it all seemed like a nightmare after that. He had followed her dad to the kitchen, on his way to get a bottle of wine last night. After that, this happened, and that followed.
Until he came for her. "You look more beautiful than the shy Tiri that I used to know." He touched his beards, obviously enjoying the look on her face. "You are so smart, aren't you? Trying to even run away but just take a look at yourself."
He took a step towards her. "You look so much like her now, and it reminds me of the days I used to have her in my bed. I wish to grant you the privilege of replacing her, but you are not all that smart anyways." He laughed. There was no way Tiri's angry voice could be heard.
The force of the gag held back all the words, words that she desperately wanted to spill in his ugly face. The beast! She thought. The cut on the bridge of his nose, the one her father had given him before he had fallen hard on the kitchen floor, was still so fresh. She shook her head, as she turned this way, and that way.
Her hands were held by shiny silver handcuffs, that was connected to chains that was fastened to the iron bars of her window. Each move, made her to wriggle in pain. He touched his lower lip, and raised his right brow. His darling sixteen year old Tiri wants to talk, and he'll let her, even if it's for the last time.
"You will so rot in prison; bastard!" She said at the peak of her voice. "No Tiri, don't be so rude. You should thank me for letting you talk, so those words don't give choke you." He let his tongue trace the shiny metal, and used his fore finger to play with its sharp edge.
"I will slit your throat the next time you fail to wisely select your words, before throwing them at me." "Let me go, you sick bastard!" Tiri screamed. He smiled, a smile that was meant to warn Tiri.
"You killed my mother, shot my father on his leg, leaving him to die. Isn't that enough payment for not getting married to a gem like my already dead mother?"
"I am amazed that you remember so well what I am capable of doing, yet, you still toy around with me." He shook his head, as he gave her a stinging slap on her left cheek.
"What exactly do you want from me, why don't you go ahead and slit my throat, or isn't that enough satisfaction for your evil soul?"
Tiri asked, as she stared him in the eyes. "I am Dunja, I revenge, I torment, and I will watch you suffer before I finally kill you like I killed your-"
"You will do no such thing to my daughter Dunja!" Tiri stared in shock at the figure behind Dunja. "Mother?!" Tiri gasped!
"Dunja, move away from my daughter immediately. I am not Ayo the daughter of Lamisi for nothing!" "Mother, you are alive! How?"
"Oh my darling child, death can not take me away from you." Tiri was overwhelmed by joy, and at the same time, struck by the events of the last fourty hours. The tears trailed down her cheeks.
"The bullet only brushed through my arms, I survived it. I haven't lost much blood." Ayo explained to her daughter. Her brown lacy dress, was soiled in blood. Her eyes were so red, she looked like a ghost.
Tiri stared at her mother, still looking beautiful, even when she was a total wreck. It was dark and Dunja had broken her light bulbs three hours ago, but she could still make out her mother's face in the darkness.
"Dad?" Tiri could barely see with her swelled eyes. "Your dad. He's uh-"
"I am right here beside you."
Tiri had not even felt his hands on her skin before now. The whole room was dark and she felt numb. Dayo was working on the handcuffs that held her. "So I see; love is stronger than the bullets I drove into your bones right?" Dunja was obviously confused and directed his question at Ayo.
Where had he gone wrong, how had they entered Tiri's room without a single sound to alert him? His plan was to kill father and daughter, then take Ayo his love along with him. He did fire his shot, but Ayo had run towards him and had gotten hit, instead of Dayo her husband. The second shot had driven a bullet into Dayo's leg, he had bled profusely.
He left Dayo to die slowly, and not to be up strong and breathing. The man was limping, but he had the strength of ten soldiers. He can't face a military man who is now well armed.
There was hardly a bullet, and he was fast losing strength. His attempts to kill Dayo had failed for the sixth time. There was the poison that did nothing, there was also a hired killer, but the man seemed to have something that protects him.
They were friends from high school, down to the university. He had planned on marrying his girlfriend Ayo after their youth service, but Dayo had gone behind his back to be introduced to Ayo's family.
Years have come and gone, but his life has not been complete without Ayo. There was no stable job, his dreams to even be one of the top musicians in Nigeria, had also failed.
"Listen to me Dunja, drop the knife in your hands, don't you move another step closer to my wife!" Dayo ordered him. Dunja will rather wipe out the whole family, than watch Ayo and Dayo live the life that they had denied him.
He rushed towards Ayo with the knife in hand, when he felt a sharp pain on his forehead. Ayo had shot him.
"I will always love you." He said, as he fell backwards. Those were his last words to Ayo before he drifted out of existence.
Dayo held his daughter in a tight embrace, and cried like a woman, knowing how he had almost lost her about an hour ago.
Ayo moved towards her husband and daughter. She hugged them both, the last fourty hours was a miracle. "We breathe." She said to Dayo, who stared at her lovingly.
"You are more of a soldier than I am. You handle the gun as well as you handle the kitchen." She smiled, even though she was breaking inside, seeing her husband in so much pain.
"I will clean your wounds again, before the cops would get here." She said to him, as she held his face in her hands.
"I love you Ayo."
That was the only way he could say thank you to his wife, for attempting to take a bullet in his place, and she understood him well enough.
"What is love, if I live only because I let you die?" Tiri moved away to sit down on the tiled floor of her room, an inch away from her parent.
She looked around her room and took a deep breath. Dunja had planned to take her life here, in her own room. All thanks to her mother, who had showed up.
How did her parent get into her room in the first place? She wondered. Then, she remembered the underground door in her bathroom. Goodness!
She touched the swollen places, where Dunja had hit her, and went straight to where his body laid to kick him with the little strength that she had.
"He's already dead!" Her parent chorused. I wish he'll wake up, so I can kill him a second time" Tiri wailed. "It's okay, he's not going to harm you anymore."
Her father assured her, and motioned for her to come sit with them. It was dark already, so they sat down together in Tiri's room, awaiting the arrival of the cops.
by Shitoto.com, published 5 months, 4 weeks ago
I was still spread out for his viewing pleasure when a thought crossed my mind. We had talked before about the things we would like to do when we eventually meet. Of course at that time I didn't think our meeting was ever going to happen so I painted quite the picture of an explorer, to match him. Even though he was miles a way and there was no chance of us meeting, what he thought of me somehow mattered to me. I closed my legs, did my best pirouette and walked to the door. His eyes followed me. First with surprise and as what I was about to do dawned on him, a sly smile crossed his face.
Here we were in their family compound in Ikeja Lagos state. His great grand mother on his father's side, a princess and last surviving matriarch at 93 had died. It was celebration of life and every member of the family was mandated to come and pay their last respects. There was more celebration than mourning but it was still death that brought everyone together.
I flew in from Kano the night he arrived Nigeria. He came to the airport to carry me himself. When I approached where he was he looked me over as if to to confirm if the pictures we had shared over time was indeed mine. He was also checking to make sure I had complied with his directives. Wear a black Burqa with nothing underneath. "When I see you, I want your nipples straining through the fabric. " I had protested that because of the heavy nature of the garment there is no way my nipples would show even if they were granite. He consented and said I should wear a gold laced black kaftan instead before cutting the call. That shit is transparent ! How can I walk about the airport like that, and in Kano no less ??? You see these Americanas eh ! It's like as soon as the leave the shores of this country and their innit and yo'mehn enters they forget what happens back home. I had watched all three parts of fifty shades of grey so I didn't argue before he would use me to learn work.
I decided to fly the 6:30 PM flight and hoped that it would be dark in Lagos. My prayers were answered. The flight didn't depart Kano until 8 PM and on arrival I quickly went to the bathroom and changed used a shawl to wrap myself until I walked to where he was. So when he looked me over I could see satisfaction. In the car, he ordered me to spread my legs which I did. He brought out a small satchel, like the type men use to keep clippers and all. Inside he brought out a bullet looking thing. It was purple and felt cold to the touch. He placed it on my clitoris and it began to vibrate. He moved it up and down... Up and down.... Up and down. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. "open your eyes. We are in traffic, act normal." I looked at him in wonder. "do you care what people think or what ? " " I don't give a rats ass what they think, this is about me and you. If you make any sound, or close your eyes I'll stop, and you will pay for denying me my pleasure. And trust me, you don't want to make me mad. " I swallowed again. The words were said casually but I'd be a fool if I didn't believe every single word he spoke. I was tempted to tell him to stop there and then but I truly didn't want to get him mad. So I nodded and gestured for him to continue. The slight buzzing began and stimulation followed. I licked my lips and forced my eyes to stay open. I looked out at the other commuters, their faces partly obscured in the growing darkness. I tried to focus on the noise. Lagos go-slow is famous for the drama that always seems to happen. Yet somehow I didn't hear the blasting of horns and the expletives that always followed in Yoruba or pidgin. I didn't even feel the car's movements as his driver tried to maneuver through the chaos. He stopped and put back the gadget into his satchel and smiled at me. we are going to have so much fun you and me he beamed. We rode the rest of the journey in silence me in a puddle of my own making. That was yesterday night.
I walked over to his satchel and opened it. There were things I couldn't even describe inside, so I picked the one I was more familiar with. I have watched too many movies where handcuffs were used and since he is a fan of bondage I figured I could excite him enough to give me an orgasm. He was right behind me. Took the handcuffs and kissed my fingers. His eyes where ablaze. He led me to the closet and handcuffed my hands to one of the high cabinet handles. The feel of cold steel stole some of the warmth from my heart. He gently spread my legs, caressing my thighs, soothing me like a cat about to be put down. His satchel produced ropes he used to tie my legs each to a lower drawer on either side. I was spread wide and he stared in satisfaction.
Then he knelt under me.
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by Shitoto.com, published 7 months ago
"Why won't you look into me when we fuck?"
I was buckling my shoes when I heard him from the bed. I heard the slight shake in his voice. He was trying to pass this off as casual talk after a very thoroughly satisfying session but I knew better. I wanted to tell him the truth. He was just a random dick I enjoyed now and then, nothing more.
Instead, I climbed into the bed, still wet from our latest session and kissed him deep in the mouth. I teased the insides of his mouth, while giving him soft bites on his full, soft-like-marshmallows lips. He sighed as if in resignation, and matched me tease for tease. I came up for air. Kunle, knew the assignment. When it came to my body's needs, he understood the assignment.
"You make it so. How can I control myself when you get me fucked up. Literally!"
His lips parted in a full smile and I mirrored his. No need hurting his feelings. I needed him to be happy. A happy dick is a more than capable dick. I made a mental note to send him extra money as my driver drove me out of his premises.
Kunle and I met at a Christmas food drive. I had sponsored the drive for 70 widows. On the 20th of December, I got a call from my assistant that some of the volunteers were a no show. That was how I drove to the venue in my jeans and Tees to lend a hand.
He looked at me and I guess he tried to asses my level of importance and judged I was just another volunteer in the ranks. I played along while he tried to school me on the art of volunteering. "you see this gig? Don't stress too much. Just show up and smile. You already have your looks and body working in your favor. After the whole event make an endearing post on social media. This one has been paid for by an annoynmous person which means you can take credit. You sha have to do it codedly, that way you don't get into trouble.
He was a pro. He made sure everybody was coordinated. He took pictures, gave lectures, cracked jokes, pep talks, the whole works. By the time we arrived the point of departure, I was worn out, but fond of him. He collected my number and promised to call. I didn't think much of it, but was happy when he did call.
I was going through a messy divorce that had me flying to and fro the US and Nigeria. His calls always served as salve to my frayed nerves. I knew I was a mark but I didn't care. I allowed myself to feel wanted again. To feel young and desirable.
After a truly nerve wrecking week, I called him. His number was switch off. I couldn't get a hold of him. I asked my assistant to find him and when she couldn't, I fired her. I entered my car by 11 pm and drove round town. I went to all his hangout spots - the ones he had told me about. He wasn't there either. It was like he had vanished. I finally summed up courage to drive to his place. He didn't know I had gotten someone to find out information about him. Since I was sure I was a mark, I needed to know who I was dealing with. Looking back at that faithful night as I headed for my 4pm appointment at the state secretariat building, it was sheer madness. Madness I tell you. I was behind the wheel looking like Cruella Davil with my hair disheveled and smudged makeup. I arrived his home and was grateful there was still lights on inside. I was at the door knocking. It was like I was being propelled beyond my will. Like a lightly puppet strung to a mad puppeteer. He opened the door and the look on his face should have sent me back into my car, to my house, into the earth and stay there. But the puppeteer wasn't quite finished with me. In a rush of words, tumbling over each other I told him to fuck me untill I lost my mind. "I don't think you need me for that. The loosing your mind part. Margaret, what are you doing here?" He looked up and down the street, I guess trying to make sense of what was going on. "Kunle, I need you to do all the things you said you would do to me when you catch me. And I need you to do it to me now." He led me into his apartment but the look of biwildment mixed with panic stuck on his rough face.
Even in the madness of the moment, I noticed the fresh breakouts and wondered what could have caused the violent redness scattered accros his face. Kunle at 26 had a smooth face like that of a teen pre puberty. I asked him for something hot and he got me coffee.
"Margaret, what is going on?"
I dropped the mug on the carpet and walked over to where he sat opposite me. I tried to remember how to be sexy. It felt like many lifetimes ago I was this way. Iman, my soon to be ex husband had been more than generous with his criticism of my body. I unzipped the bubu I was wearing and let it fall to the ground. "Kunle, I said I'm here to get fucked till I lose my mind."
That was four months ago.
The 4pm appointment would drag on till 10 pm. I had sent the driver home by 8pm together with the car. I hated to overstretch my workers and Fabian, my driver who had stuck with me even after his Oga, my now ex husband had left - had a 6 week old baby at home and needed to be with his wife.
By 10: 16 pm I stepped out of No 7 Tonga drive, adjacent to the state secretariat building, to a chill night. I adjusted my coat to ward off the cold and began walking down the streets. It was a beautiful night and I opted to walk instead of the offers to drop me off. Kunle said he was 12 minutes out. I figured that by the time I'd reached the intersection, by the overhead bridge, he'd be there. My heels as the hit the newly laid asphalt echoed in the quiet, causing a certain lull as I walked on.
"Kin kawo mana mai"
I spun at the voice so close behind me. It was dark, so I couldn't make out the face, but I saw four forms. I nodded to an inaudible greeting and continued walking down. I've experienced fear and intimidation most of my adult life. Growing up in a place like Jenta Adamu prepares you for the scum of the earth. I've faced intimidation in South Africa and the US. In business, in relationships, in life. I've always been a fighter.
"Na che kin kawo mana mai "? This voice belonged to a different speaker. His voice sounded hoarse and had a bite to it, unlike the first one. They had kept up the pace with me. I closed my eyes as the unwanted bubble rose to my throat. Fear. Living in Jenta felt so otherworldly, like a distant dream. A terribly bad dream. I kept walking, willing Kunle to appear. The cynical side of me still purred, hands akinbo to question "What are you expecting Kunle to do? He's only good for fuck. How is he going to help you now?"
"Ke" his hand touched my shoulder and I took off. I began to run but it was futile. In my new Guiseppe Zanotti sandals, it was difficult to run. And I couldn't fling them because of the buckles. One of the boys tackled me to the ground. He was over me, punching the back of my head, hard. The rest surrounded me. The one who tackled me, called Ahmed, used my newly installed wig to pull me back towards where I was coming from. The pain seared through me, as my face burned, and my hair ripped. Ahmed, taunted and cursed me in Hausa while the others laughed on.
"shegiya kowai. Kin fi ni gudu ko ? Ina kudi'n da su mazan chan sun baki da an gama chin ki?" "Za ki chi Ubanki, shegiya har kin sani gudu." He kept at it. Cursing me while pulling me down the road. Eventually, the wig ripped off and they all laughed as if on queue. He commanded me to stand. I couldn't. So I lay still. That earned me a kick in the ribs. I was incapable of wailing anymore. My tears, mingled with blood and sand flowed down my torn face. He commanded I stand again while one of them busied himself removing my jewelry, shoes, and other valuables. I braced myself for the assault I was sure was coming. It didn't come. I heard a thud, like a heavy sack falling, then footsteps receding. I didn't dare raise my head. I couldn't even if I wanted to. So I lay there expecting the worst.
"Margerate". It was Kunle. Relief washed over me and I suddenly found my voice. He lifted me like a rag doll, over his shoulder, in the dark and took me to his car. He dropped me gingerly in the back seat and made to close the door. I didn't mean to, but my fingers dug into him as I reached out to him. "don't leave me here" I managed to say through my sobbing. I was badly shaking. He needed to get the rest of my items he said. "Please don't go" I said over and over again untill he entered the car with me. He made a cryptic call then put the car into gear.
He took me to a private clinic inside Dong, away from scrutiny. I was examined, cleaned and stitched up. I had lost some blood and he was given a list of drugs and food items to place me on immidiately. No questions asked, no answers offered. On our way back, he stopped at around wild life park and turned off the engine. I'd been given a cocktail of drugs that had began to kick in, but somehow I could hear his phone conversation. There was a sentence that stuck. It was as loud as if he shouted it into my brain. "Leave that one, na me go kill am". I fought the blackness. What did he mean by that? Kunle... How ? Who do you want to kill Kunle?
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