The Hijab Hunter Returns

Can you be a Hijab-wearing pious Muslim woman and still love BDSM? That's partially what this story is about, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Haifa Osman and I'm a young Arab woman living in the City of Ottawa, Ontario. I was born in the City of Khobar, Saudi Arabia, and have been in Canada since 1999. I am twenty two years old, and study accounting at Algonquin College. I also work part-time as a cashier at Bayshore Mall. Life is pretty boring for me, that's why I make my own fun.

Recently, I got a lecture from my older sister Fatoumatta when she saw me in a YouTube video, talking about sex and BDSM while still wearing my hijab and some tight-ass jeans. Even though I had sunglasses on, my sister still recognized me. And she warned me that if our parents found out, I'd be in deep shit. Damn. Just what I frigging need. That's the thing with Saudi families, they refuse to evolve! As far as I know, ninety nine percent of all Saudis are Muslim, though there is a growing Christian minority back in Saudi Arabia and nearby Qatar. We're a conservative bunch in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, to say the least.

Even though there are lots of Saudi guys and Saudi chicks doing freaky shit behind closed doors, sex remains a taboo subject in our community. My cousin Hassan is gay, and left his wife Hamidah and their daughter Khadija to live with his Jamaican boyfriend Theodore Morrison. He left Ottawa for the bright lights of Toronto. Our family curses the day he was born. I don't hate my cousin Hassan. He's the only guy in the family who isn't a jerk or a control freak. There are gay men, lesbians, bisexual women and bisexual men in the Saudi Canadian community but such matters aren't discussed. Saudis like to pretend that LGBT people don't exist in our families and communities. The truth is that they're in the Masjid with us every frigging Friday night.

Long before my cousin Hassan decided to divorce his wife Aisha he confided in me about what he was going through, and I encouraged him to be honest with himself and his wife. In the end, when Aisha flipped out after Hassan confessed his sexual secrets, divorce became inevitable. Muslims worldwide aren't known for their tolerance of sexual minorities and the Saudi community puts the H in homophobic. Honestly, Hassan is lucky he's still alive. We're still friends on Facebook and Twitter. I went to visit him in Toronto and spent a weekend at the house he shares with his partner. Theodore Morrison is a tall, good-looking black guy built like a football player. He's a patrol officer with the Toronto Police Service, if you can believe that. Like Hassan, he was married once before, to a white woman named Valerie with whom he has two sons, Timmy and Joshua. I am cool with Theo, as Hassan calls him, as long as he makes my cousin happy. Live and let live, that's what I say. It is my belief that Allah created all of us and we have no right to judge anyone simply because they're different from us. Amen.

While hanging out in the Algonquin College library, I checked out how many hits my YouTube videos got that day. I was smiling when I saw that my video titled "female domination, Islam and BDSM" had gotten more than sixty thousand hits in five days. That's when someone sat next to me and asked me what I was looking at. I rolled my eyes when I saw who it was. None other than Stephen Rousseau, this tall, slightly chubby black guy who's like obsessed with me. He's originally from Haiti and we've had a couple of classes together. Hello Haifa, he said with a grin, pulling a chair and sitting at the computer terminal next to mine. I offered him a cold smile, and resumed what I was doing. I honestly hoped Stephen would get the hint and stop gawking at my computer screen. No such luck.

Stephen's eyes were riveted on my screen in typical nosy Haitian fashion and the bozo smiled when he recognized me. So you like BDSM, he said with a smirk. It wasn't a question. I looked at him and cocked an eyebrow. So what? I asked him defiantly. Stephen grinned, licked his lips then asked me if I was dominant or submissive. I'm bossy, I said with emphasis. The grin on his face widened. I'm submissive, he said with a shrug. I looked Stephen up and down. The cross-wearing, red-and-blue clad Haitian dude who'd been pestering me like Steve Urkel once pestered Laura Winslow on Family Matters was into BDSM? Damn. Will wonders never cease?

I smiled at Stephen and he smiled at me. I never would have guessed that a guy like him would be into this stuff. I often see Stephen hanging out with the guys and gals from the Christian Students Alliance at school and figured him to be a Bible thumper. Hell, sometimes I come to school with my Quran to pray on special holidays with some of the Muslim students so I guess appearances don't count for much eh? That afternoon, I got to know Stephen like never before. He'd been introduced to BDSM by his Nigerian ex-girlfriend Madeline Azonye and after she bent him over and fucked him with a strap-on dildo, he discovered he was a proud submissive. When he shared that with me, I was both moved and surprised. I decided to tell him the truth about me. I love BDSM and both blog and make videos about it online but I've never done anything. Hell, I've never had sex. I'm a twenty-year-old pious Saudi Muslim gal. To me, BDSM is the forbidden fruit. The one I yearn for but dare not experience because of the restrictions placed upon me by my faith. Sad? I know, dammit!

When I finished telling him this, Stephen flashed me that fearless Haitian smile of his and made me an offer I couldn't refuse. He offered me his submission. I couldn't pass up the offer to experiment at last! That's why I went back to his residence, and we got our freak on. I felt both nervous and eager, though Stephen let me be in charge completely. We didn't get naked or have sex or anything like that. I love BDSM but I told Stephen we had to keep everything Halal or as close to Halal as possible because I'm not a slut. My faith matters to me a great deal, thank you very much. Fortunately, he was very understanding.

I sat on Stephen's living room couch, and he knelt before me, looking at me with pleading eyes like a puppy. I nudged his face with my slippers, and ordered him to lick my shoes. Obediently Stephen kissed the tip of my shoe, then the whole thing, including the soles. Watching him do this made me cackle with glee. In Muslim culture, shoes are considered dirty and being forced to kiss them is a sign of ultimate humiliation. I took off my slippers and allowed Stephen suckle on my toes like he'd begged me to. One at a time he sucked on them. I am kind of sensitive down there so I found myself giggling as Stephen licked my toes. He's like a big puppy, nice and obedient. That's so awesome!

When he finished licking and sucking on my toes, Stephen asked me if there was something else he could do for me. I glared at him and reminded him that I still have my virtue as a pious Muslim woman who is unmarried and intend to keep it. Stephen nodded, then told me what he had in mind. When he told me, I hesitated. On one hand, I'm as sexually curious ( and frustrated ) as any woman ever born, and being a virgin at twenty in the Capital of Canada isn't easy. On the other hand, was it truly haram to try oral sex? Granted, women aren't supposed to show their Awrah ( shameful parts ) around males they're unrelated to, but hadn't I already done that in a way by allowing Stephen to lick my feet? Sexual curiosity and lust warred with a strict Islam upbringing within my soul. Temptation won out.

I hiked up my skirt, and pulled down my panties. Hesitantly, I slipped a finger into my pussy. Understand that I've never touched myself in front of anyone before. Stephen's eyes were riveted on me. I guess he liked what he saw. Looking at Stephen, I told him to get to work. Stephen did as he was told, and he did not disappoint me. First he breathed in the smell of my hairy pussy, then began to gently lick it. I felt his tongue all over my clitoris, teasing it ever so nicely while massaging my mound.

As I felt his fingers on my pussy, I tensed and he sensed it. I warned Stephen not to penetrate my pussy with his fingers. He looked at me, a look of surprise on his face. I can only give my virginity to my future husband, I told him. And so it goes for Muslim women worldwide. If I let Stephen break my hymen with his fingers while fooling around, I won't be a virgin when time comes for me to marry. And I can't have that, even though my body yearned for his touch. Shaking his head, Stephen resumed pleasuring me, this time using only his tongue and keeping his fingers out of my pussy. I closed my eyes and licked my lips. At last I relaxed, and enjoyed. It was a lot of fun, especially when Stephen's darting tongue sent little shockwaves of pleasure deep inside my cunt. The man has the magic touch for real!

A little while later, I had readjusted my clothes and departed from Stephen's apartment. I walked to campus, then crossed the street to the bus station. I got on the 95 bus heading downtown and went my merry way. I can't believe the things Stephen and I just did together, man! A pious, hijab-wearing Muslim sister like myself having a secret rendezvous with a young man, and a non-Muslim one at that, for purposes of BDSM and sexual gratification. If anyone finds out, I'm a dead woman. Seriously. I'd be the next Muslim female victim of an honor killing you'd read about in the pages of Metro or the Ottawa Sun. No way my relatives would suffer my existence if they knew what I was up to. That's why I swore Stephen to secrecy. My life kind of depends on it.