Lady Afaf of Dammam

Exiled from my people, stuck living far from everything I've ever known, I am finally forced to start living. I thank the Most High for that, at least, for the trials and tribulations that I've endured have made me stronger, and shown me the way. Home is wherever the head is, I say. If I were still living in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, I would have been beheaded. That much I know for sure. My ancestral homeland's rules for female adulterers are very strict.

I'm five-foot-six, kind of chubby, with long black hair which I almost always hide away under my Hijab, and my features are a blend of both Arabian and Asiatic, due to my mixed parentage. I consider myself a proud Saudi Arabian Muslim woman, even after all that I've gone through. At the end of the day, we are what we are, for better and for worse.

Today, I live in Canada, with the man I love, and I've applied for refugee status. I love Canada, and I love living with my beloved Arthur. I love falling asleep in his arms after a night of passionate lovemaking and waking up next to him in the morning. Arthur means a lot to me, and my life would truly suck without him. Still, the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia still haunts my dreams.

My name is Afaf Abdul-Bari, and I'm a young Saudi Arabian Muslim woman living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I was born in the City of Dammam, Saudi Arabia, and first came to Canada to study business administration at the University of Ottawa. I graduated with a bachelor's degree in 2011, and later earned my MBA in 2014. I returned to Saudi Arabia, where I got married to Khalid Hussein, a long-time friend of my family.

By all accounts, my former husband Khalid Hussein and I had a happy marriage, but I was just pretending. I did not want to get married, and I did not want to live in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia after experiencing Canada. I wanted to live in Canada but since my study permit expired after I completed my business studies at the University of Ottawa, I had to return home.

Like a lot of international students, I wanted to stay in Canada after my university studies were over. Someone forgot to tell me how complex and treacherous the immigration process is in Canada. When I walked into an immigration office in downtown Ottawa, I saw the way the fake-smiling white people looked at me, a bronze-skinned woman in a Hijab, and I knew that I was doomed.

Still, I've never been the type to give up easily. I am much stronger than I look. I know the Canadian government is racist but I was not going to let that discourage me. I applied for permanent resident status in Canada but it was denied by the racist and xenophobic Conservative government of that Alberta redneck, Prime Minister Stephen Harper. Naturally, my application was denied, and I returned to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, or, as I've grown to call it, the world's largest prison for females.

Seriously, women in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia can't even FART without male permission. We require a male chaperone to go shopping or the permission of a male guardian to work. The draconian rules of Saudi Arabia are harsh and unforgiving, and apply equally to princesses and female commoners alike. Don't believe me? Ah, you poor westerners, you've got much to learn.

My mother, Mariam Abdul-Bari, told me about Princess Misha'al Bint Fahd Al Saud, who was executed in 1977 for adultery by the Saudi royal court, in spite of international outcry. That story was meant to terrify me and curb the rebellious side that I've cultivated since my earliest days. I was quite the tomboy, and grew up playing soccer with my brother Ali and my male cousins in the family villa in Dammam. I was better than most of the lads, and some resented me for it while others grudgingly admired me.

It seems that I was destined for hardship even from my earliest days. My father Washim Abdul-Bari is pure Saudi Arabian, but my mother Mariam Abdul-Bari was born in the City of Dubai, crown jewel of the United Arab Emirates, to a Saudi Arabian father and a Filipina Muslim mother. I am mixed race, technically, and that made me stand out in Saudi Arabian society.

Even though my father Washim Abdul-Bari is wealthy and powerful, thanks to our family's civil engineering company, Abdul-Bari Tech, he couldn't fully shield me from the racism and xenophobia that pervade every aspect of life in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. The Saudis are mean to their fellow Arabs, and won't let their daughters marry Arab Muslim men from places like Syria or Lebanon simply because they're from outside the Gulf States.

You can only imagine what I went through growing up in a place like that. I was called a Half-Breed both to my face and behind my back, and couldn't stand the racist creeps who surrounded my mother and I everywhere we went. We were made painfully aware that we did not belong. My father defended us, of course, but there's only so much that even a powerful man can do.

In the eyes of many, I wasn't truly Saudi. Never mind that lots of Africans, Indians and Filipinos live in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, and lots of Saudi men sire offspring with women from these communities. That's one of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia's dirty little secrets, the racism and xenophobia that pervade the Heartland of Islam. At least in the West racial relations and racism are openly discussed. In the Arab world, we like to pretend that everything is just fine even though we treat those different from the majority very poorly.

My whole life I dreamed of escaping from the Kingdom, and when my father got a job offer in Canada, I begged him to take me with him. Father brought me to the City of Ottawa, Ontario, where he worked for the Saudi Arabian government while I studied at the University of Ottawa. While at that school, which was surprisingly diverse, I experienced a brand new world. It's where I met the person destined to change my life forever.

Arthur Voltaire, the tall, dark and handsome young man who stole my heart. From the moment I first laid eyes on him in my Intro To Business Class, I knew he was something special. Born in the City of Calgary, Alberta, to a Haitian immigrant father, Ernest Voltaire, and a white Canadian mother, Leanne Harrison, Arthur was simply one of the most beautiful human beings I had ever met. A gifted student, Arthur helped me out a lot. I knew the material but struggled with English, and that's how Arthur and I got to know each other.

That's how it all began between Arthur Voltaire and I, ladies and gentlemen. The romance that changed my life and made me question everything began with a simple hello. Arthur and I began hanging out, on campus at first, meeting for coffee while discussing politics, religion, and my fascination with this beautiful young man grew at a geometric rate. With his lovely eyes, fearless smile and handsome face, Arthur could have almost any woman on campus.

I wanted this beautiful young brown man for myself, that's what I realized early on. Never mind that, as a Muslim woman, I am strictly forbidden from having relations with males outside of marriage, and non-Muslim males are off-limits to me. When we went to the movies at the Silver City theater in the east end for the first time, Arthur held out his hand and I took it. We walked in, hand in hand, like any other couple.

I still shudder with excitement and blush when I think of our first kiss. Arthur and I were coming back to the University of Ottawa campus after a football game during which our team demolished their cross-town rivals, Carleton University. Decked out in a gray sweatshirt, black pants and crimson Hijab, I managed to both show team spirit and follow the strict rules of my Islamic faith. Arthur looked really good in a blue silk shirt, black jeans and boots. My handsome Afro-Canadian stud, as I called Arthur in my mind.

I don't know why or how, but Arthur and I sat on the bus, and we were surrounded by dozens of fellow University of Ottawa students, chanting and laughing after the football team's victory. I looked into Arthur's eyes and he looked into mine. His handsome face drew closer to mine, and then, um, I kissed him. That's right, the shy, short and round little woman from Saudi Arabia kissed the macho Black guy.

I honestly don't know who was more surprised by this first kiss, Arthur or myself. We sat there, giggling like a pair of idiots. When the bus reached the University of Ottawa, we walked off, hand in hand, and went to my residence. Once we got there, we made love like only the truly repressed can. It was the single most wonderful experience of my existence.

To hold Arthur in my arms, to feel his soft lips on mine, and his strong yet gentle hands caress my face, my breasts and my ample derriere or "ghetto booty" as he calls it. The passion with which I returned Arthur's kisses surprised us both. I gave myself wholly to Arthur, mind, body and soul. My eyes beheld Arthur's tall, masculine form in its naked glory, and I went to him most eagerly.

For years I'd dreamed of this, making love with a man who loves me, and thanks to Arthur, I finally got that chance. My eager hands went to Arthur's body, and I caressed his handsome face, his hairy chest, and then I held his manhood. It was both long and thick, and I was surprised to discover that Arthur was uncircumcised, but I nevertheless caressed his dick, marveling at it. Arthur smiled and nodded at me, and I smiled, and then got on my knees before my tall brown prince...to worship at his altar.

I held Arthur's gaze as I took his dick into my mouth, and watched as my tall, handsome lover sighed happily. Truth be told, I'd never even touched a man sexually before, but even us repressed Saudi Arabian girls know certain things, and I knew what males like having females do for them. I pleasured Arthur, a bit clumsily ( I accidentally grazed his dick with my teeth and Arthur yelped ) but he seemed pleased with what I'd done for him.

When Arthur finally came, I eagerly drank his cum, marveling at the taste of his masculine essence. Arthur sighed happily, and rubbed my head affectionately, and I smiled up at him, thrilled that I brought pleasure to the man that I love. Arthur pulled me up in his arms and kissed me full and deep, then he laid me on my bed, and went to work on me.

As I lay on my bed, my beloved Arthur worshipped my body, kissing and licking me from my head to my toes. I sighed happily as Arthur kissed a path from my lips to my neck, and then he rubbed my tummy, making me giggle, and then he spread my thick thighs, and I held my breath. Arthur winked at me, and then he buried his face between my legs.

A shocked little gasp escaped my lips as Arthur began licking my pussy, and he unleashed wave upon wave of sexual pleasure upon me. Pleasures I had never before experienced, for I had never known the touch of a man before. Arthur licked and probed my cunt, and I found myself crying out his name. Later, when he finally entered me, I wrapped my arms around Arthur, holding on for dear life as he made love to me.

Locking eyes with Arthur, I welcomed him inside of me. Arthur kissed me and caressed first my small breasts, then my thick derriere. In a gentle voice, Arthur asked me to trust him, and I did, wholeheartedly. My tall, gorgeous brown stud thrust into me, filling my cunt with his long, hard dick. I cried out as deliciously hot pain mixed with sweet pleasured coursed through me, down deep in my core, and I came. An explosion of pleasure and passion unlike anything I'd ever experienced.

Arthur and I fell in love that night, and I knew down deep in my heart that I would never love another man for as long as I live. I tried to do the right thing, torn as I was by the rules of Islam, which forbade Muslim women like myself from loving Christian guys like Arthur. I tried to stay away from Arthur, but I couldn't. For years we went on with our relationship, but then I graduated from the University of Ottawa and my father Washim Abdul-Bari got recalled to Saudi Arabia, and I went with him.

In Dammam, I married Khalid Hussein, a long-time friend, associate and business colleague of my father's. I played wife for this wealthy Saudi Arabian businessman whom I did not love. At night, I wept for Arthur and Ottawa, the town where I found true love and discovered so many things about the world and about myself. That's why I had to leave the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I returned to Canada in the summer of 2015.

I showed up on Arthur Voltaire's doorstep in Orleans, Ontario, and when our eyes met, my heart skipped a beat. Would he take me back? Arthur pleaded with me to stay in Canada with him but I left him after our graduation because, although I loved him, I couldn't imagine defying my father, or fourteen centuries of Islamic tradition. Well, now I've left Saudi Arabia, and there's literally a price on my head. I was desperate. If Arthur rejected me, I would be truly lost.

Arthur Voltaire smiled at me and pulled me into his arms, and then he invited me to join him and his parents for dinner. I now know that I needed to return to Saudi Arabia because I had to realize that my true home is where the head ( and heart ) happen to be, and not just a specific geographical location. I was born in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia but as an Arab woman with an MBA, a fondness for Black men and a fierce, sharp mind, I no longer belong there. My erstwhile husband Hussein divorced me in absentia, and has sworn that I would be executed for my deceit. My family sided with Hussein, as I knew they would.

If the Canadian government continues with its racism and xenophobia, I will be sent back to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and summarily beheaded. That's the fate of female adulterers over there. If they send me back there. Arthur and I hired a lawyer and our attorney tells me that she feels confident that the Canadian government will allow me to stay.

I want to stay in Canada with my darling Arthur, and I've started to really love my life here. There is so much beauty in this land. Arthur's family and friends have embraced me, and I now consider them my family. I still believe in God, but I no longer follow the draconian rules of Islam. I love Arthur and would give my life for him. We are building a life together, you see.

Things are starting to happen for me, praise be to the Creator of all things. I have a work permit and a social insurance card now, and work for a company in downtown Ottawa. I am thankful to the Creator for my life. If, a year from now, the Canadian government ships me back to the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia to be slaughtered, I will not renounce my love for Arthur, my newfound respect for Christianity or my fondness for the friends I made in Ottawa. I will meet my death with dignity if that's what fate has in store for me. Do wish me luck, Insha'Allah.