Veiled PAGE


No Slips by Vulcan

Hello! Greetings,

My name is Chantalle;

I live with my girlfriend Susie in a lovely three room attic apartment in Düsseldorf.

At present, I work on the weekends at night as a waitress in the 'Altstadt'. On weekdays I study German, English and Arabic as a teacher.

Susie works more or less as a motor vehicle expert in her father's business.

Our Lord has endowed us with beautiful bodies and nimble minds to declare it in all modesty. We both belong in the category of crazy noodles, are always on the road and think that sleeping is, unfortunately, an inevitable fate. And our clothing is a fetish that unites us especially. Long, full, slightly transparent dresses, high necked with a round girl's collar to fake our innocence, like in the 1950's Heimatschnulzen. We wear nothing underneath except a tight bra.

If then a lukewarm breeze strokes between our legs, it is a pleasure, if the air strokes our freshly shaved pussies. And you're always on your guard that the wind doesn't show too much of you when it lifts the hem of your dress.

We are both hetero, but lacking male company we also like to give it to ourselves with a lot of fun.

On a sunny, slightly windy June afternoon we sat by Toni's on the terrace, licking ice and watching the hustle and bustle on the street. The wind played with the hem of our clothes, it raised and lowered it and coquettishly we kept it from revealing anything except maybe a very small popo. A public promise to the world of men and an intoxicating fantasy of defenselessness and helplessness to us two 'Subs'.

Next, to us, there were young, Arabic-looking businessmen. We attracted their attention. At least one particularly well-advised person fixed me. He was the type of 'I could sink into his eyes', and I got hit entirely. I shyly returned his smile, and at the end, we exchanged names and addresses and had a date for the evening and Suzie with his brother as well.

His name was Ahmed, and his brother's name was Mahmud, they were studying in Cologne and often were business in the company of their father in Düsseldorf.

Precisely at 20:00 we were picked up by our new admirers by taxi — dining and drinking in one of the hottest restaurants, the Artichoke. Ahmed and I got quickly closer. First I thought it was my knowledge of Arabic, but as Susie and I went to powder our noses, I saw a flushed face in the mirror.

"Well, I suppose it got you pretty hard?" Susie said with a smug grin.

"Shit, yes! I delivered. This guy got me. I have never felt so strongly drawn to a man."

"Watch out that you don't end up in his harem" laughed Susie.

"Thank you, in my belly, the butterflies are doing flight exercises, and you're coming up with some crap."

"Sorry, I was stupid; Islamophobia should not infect me. Finally, I find Mahmud damn cool, too."

"Come, let's have some fun!"

And it was a beautiful and unforgettable evening for all of us. I made an appointment with Ahmed for the next evening, dressed casually, to stroll and chat alone with him on the Rhine.

At night Susie and I sat together after our cavaliers had delivered us well-behaved at home and chatted.

"I will see Ahmed again tomorrow, how are things going with you," I asked.

"He said he would like to spoil me and I think we could get along - a student affair. It's certainly more with you," she said.

"I'm completely out of my mind, my emotions are on a roller coaster, and that makes me afraid of myself. My helplessness arouses me, and the idea of being with Ahmed is overwhelming. I would like to belong to Ahmed with skin and hair."

"Come down, dear! Our Sub-games with submission and our clothing fetish should only be fun, bring a little spice to everyday routine. I propose you end this adventure now before you cannot get out."

"Maybe you're right, Susie. I am tired and go to sleep. Good night, dear." "To you too," Susie replied.

"Good morning, beautiful! Have you slept well? I am looking forward to tonight and into you. Achmed" I read on my smartphone.

I crouched down in my bed linen and was blessed. Going to university was pointless, for I could only dream about Ahmed. The whole day was a catastrophe, a typical 'freshly fallen in love' day. I didn't get anything baked at all and when evening finally came, and Achmed was standing we embraced each other and we never left each other again. He asked: "Do we want to go?"

"Whatever you want, darling," it escaped my lips quite unintentionally submissively, and I followed him to the taxi. We strolled arm in arm on the banks of the Rhine, and we didn't speak, because there was enough of us. We got ice cream on our hands, drove little boats and enjoyed each other. A bank invited us to rest. We sat down, and he said quietly:

"I know you feel like me. We love each other, we belong together, and that is why I have to leave you."

"Dear God! But why? I love you more than everything!"

"Because of that yes! I cannot dishonour you. I love you too much," he said. He loves me, doesn't want to dishonour me and has to leave me, what's the point?

"I understand, I have to explain myself. So I'm a believing Muslim, and I can have illegal sex with an infidel, but I can't do that with you," he said.

"I only understand 'Bahnhof', you may, but don't want. Am I not attractive enough for you, or what's going on?" I slowly despaired.

"I would like to have sex with you, as a Muslim wife, however."

"I ... You think I should become a Muslim?" I stuttered.

"Not only, you'd have to dress like that, but you'd have to give up your whole life and you can't, and I don't want any coercion between us. " "Please take me home. I have to digest the words first of all".

I couldn't hold myself back at the door anymore. With tears in my eyes, I said:

"I love you; please do not reject me. You show me my duties as your wife". I ran into the house and cried into my pillow until Susie came to me. "Honey, what's wrong? Are you arguing? "

"If only it were, but it's much worse. I have to marry Ahmed."  Thereupon I explained it to Susie.

"As a European woman to live a strictly Islamic life is certainly not a piece of cake, he rightly does not want to expect that from you. Let him go if you love him."

" But if I fulfil all the conditions, I can still be with him."

"Darling," she said, "he wants you to be happy, and he thinks that living as a Muslim makes you unhappy."

She gently stroked my head and left me alone in my sorrow. 

I fetched my laptop and researched Islam. I read Koran translations and looked at 'YouTube' Muslim women and their clothes. He said he was a strict believer, so I ordered the complete assortment for my cover-up. Then I quit my waitress job because from now on I was only allowed to show myself in public veiled and accompanied by a male relative. I didn't even go to university but stayed in the apartment for the next two days until the veils arrived. I was no longer visible to anyone when the curtains closed. I studied the Koran, where my knowledge of Arabic helped me a lot, and I prayed five times a day.

Then my ordered clothes arrived. I undressed and put on a long-sleeved shirt with a stand-up collar reaching down to the floor. Then I wrapped my hair in a cloth until no hair was visible. Long black stockings and black boots hid my feet. I put on a large scarf with a hole in the middle. It covered my whole body. It reached in front up to the knees and behind almost up to the ground. By the hole, you could see of me only a small triangle: eyes, nose and mouth. Then I fastened a three-layer face veil behind my head. With individual layers of covers allowed a restricted field of vision and the first one I saw through a coarse grid, the second one then plunged everything into pale grey, with the third one I was almost blind, I could only sense silhouettes. Now all that was missing was the shiny black glove, and Chantalle did not exist anymore. I had become a faceless cube, and no one could determine my identity anymore.

Then I took my smartphone and begged Achmed to come to pick up his wife. I sat face to face with the door and waited patiently. I ignored all attempts of Ahmed's to reach me by smartphone. Susie, who saw me like this, I did not answer any questions, I remained mute, I only told her by the smartphone that I was waiting for my master. She kept it that way and opened Achmed, who soon arrived.

"What is going on? I should pick up my wife" he asked Susie at the door.

"I don't know what you did to Chantalle. But look for yourself", and she brought him to me. Frozen with shock, he stood in the door. When he had caught his breath, he asked:

"What's with the masquerade; you're not a Muslim?"

In his presence and Susie's, I spoke the Shahada and agreed to follow, obey and serve him as his wife and as a strict Muslim believer. He said, "You have converted and made a binding vow. Now there is no turning back for you and I must marry you at my and your honour."

"What?" Susie said to me. "Would you please take off that ugly fumble and get back to normal." She received no answer from me, only silence. Then it dawned on Ahmed:

"You may speak, my bride! "

"The woman thanks her future husband, it will now answer Susie's questions."

" Chantalle, are you crazy? What does all this mean?"

"I will call myself Selima from now on, and please respect that. I had to decide between a life as a free European without Ahmed or as a submissive, obedient woman with Ahmed. I submit to him because I love and trust him. Allah will guide and protect me, and I will live a life pleasing to him", I explained to her.

"And that means now concretely?" she asked.

"That if my parents agree, she will become my wife and that I will have to transfer her to my parents immediately. They will decide what to do with us." , Ahmed said. He approached me and grabbed my right arm and took me outside where we were waiting for the taxi. "Chantalle, I'm begging you, you can't just leave me alone," Susie complained.

"She has no choice, bound by her oath before Allah. But come along and convince yourself of how carefully she is cared for by my parents." , offered Ahmed to her.

"Wait on me, and I just fetch my things quickly" she replied and ran back hastily.

The taxi came, and the three of us drove silently to his parents' house. When we entered the house, we girls had to wait in the vestibule. It took half an hour, and then we were invited in. We were met by his father and his mother, who was also profoundly veiled, in a large and luxuriously furnished living room.

Ahmed briefly introduced Susie as my girlfriend and guided me, as blind as I was, to his father, who was holding his hand so close to my face that I could see it. I then kissed it and pressed his hand to my forehead with my head bent. I did the same to his mother. Then I had to take place behind his mother on a pillow.

"My parents accept you, and you shall remain in the care of my mother till my parents allow us to marry. My mother will teach you to be a good Muslim wife. Susie can visit you whenever you want."

Because I may only see Ahmed again at our wedding, he then left us and took Susie with him.

And a new phase of life started for me. They blocked off completely me from the outside world, and only I had to make various signatures with the notary to dissolve my accounts and my household. His mother Hasina held her strict but also loving hand above me. I was losing my decision-making ability in everything, and I had to fulfil my religious and domestic duties exactly as Hasina demanded.

Thus I learned the Suras of the Koran, performed my daily prayers and learnt to run a household conscientiously.

I started my day at 5:00 am and finished it at 8:00 pm. 23 hours of the day I was fully veiled, I even slept veiled. I always wore the first layer of niqab in front of my face. In the presence of Ali, as Achmed's father is called, also the second. When strange men were in the house, I also had to cover my eyes with the third layer.

Susie was probably completely overwhelmed with the situation because she just couldn't be seen. She appeared two weeks later accompanied by Mahmud, and we were crying in our arms. So Mahmud left us alone, and while we sat down, I took two layers of niqab up to look at Susie. Except for the face veil, she was dressed exactly like me. I wrote on my blackboard because to could offend a man in the house:

"Why do you wear Muslim clothes? " She told me how she was doing in the last weeks.

"How you were no longer around, everything was only half as much fun as with you. I closed myself in and didn't want to see anyone. Mahmud tried to reach me several times, but I didn't call back. He was stubborn, and he caught me when I went to Daddy's company. I needed someone, and he was there. Our conversations were only around you at first, but soon we found things in common and believe me, I certainly didn't want to fall in love with him, but it happened after all".

"That means we can be together as sisters," I wrote.

"That is the point, and I do not know if I could lead a life like yours. It makes me afraid to give myself entirely to a man and to be separated from the world forever, dumb and veiled.

"If you want Mahmud, you will have to do it for better or for worse,"

I wrote, and I would have loved to have been able to tell her now that I was happy to lead a peaceful and devoted life in Islam. But one thing I still wished to write to her:

"By Allah, I still don't wear a slip!" She read it, and we had to laugh.

"If that' s the case, then I still think about it. I'm going on the boat! Inshallah!"

And so it happened, how it had to come. Susie also turned and gave Mahmud a vow, and six months later we had a double wedding.

We have no regrets. It has its advantages to be a Muslim wife, at least for our great men. And only they know about our little fetish: