Karissa Versus Marbrouk

“I’m into Femdom,” says Marbrouk,
And I look at the tall, bearded Muslim,
And a downright sardonic laugh escapes my lips.
What a world, I thought to myself.

Marbrouk is the most religious man,
In a Muslim community full of religious men.
The one who acts like the haram police.
Hassling other Muslim brothers and sisters,
For not being Muslim enough.

I, Karissa, find this laughable.
I’m the wild Hijabi.
Also known as the Hoejabi.
The one your mama warned you about.

The one other Muslim girls hate, yet envy.
The one the Muslim brothers hate, yet lust after.
The one who gets the stares when she comes to the Masjid,
Simply to pray and give thanks.
I’m that one.

“No, I won’t be that for you,” comes my icy reply,
And Marbrouk falls to his knees,
He prostrates before me,
And kisses my feet.

“Please, Karissa, I will be your slave forever,”
Marbrouk hastily promises.
I look at the pitiful young Arab man.
I don’t believe him.

Nevertheless,
I give him a few tasks.
And he performs them most eagerly.
I am impressed.

“From now on, you belong to me,”
Comes my contemptuous reply.
Marbrouk is eager to please.
Offers me his belt.
And I take it.

I bent Marbrouk over.
I whipped his ass.
I called him a slave.
I spat on him.

I made him scream,
As I beat him and shamed him.
I pulled off my dress,
Squatted over his face,

Superior woman is above man,
Marbrouk knows this,
And instead of allowing him,
The pleasure of my pussy,
I pissed all over his face,
And he drank it.

I, Karissa, felt glorious,
Simply glowing after this,
Marbrouk thanked me,
I sent him away.

Where women rule, men suffer,
This is the way of the world,
Even among Muslims.
I’ve a taste for domination now,
I must acquire new Muslim slaves.
Brothers, the line forms to the right.