Explicit Defiance

"Oh god, I love you: my Kierngiyya! I love you! Please don't stop! Don't ever stop loving me, touching me, kissing me!" Beloved. With every stroke of her tongue, she increased her motions on my labia in a in growing rhythm. With every touch, I poured all of my heart into my center so she could all of it as she enjoyed me. Her finger gently, slowly, stroked the hollow of my ass, using my wetness to make it glide against it. I gasped as she slid another finger inside my entrance while simultaneously entering my hollow with the other. I felt so full of her. Her. My beloved. My body was losing control as she touched every inch of my most intimate self with her mouth, her fingers, her heart.

Wave crashed over wave in a torrent of sensation and passion, until my body began to violently convulse. I began a pulsing seizure against her face until my body gave in to the ecstasy, and I began gushing all over my love's exquisite face. My legs quivered uncontrollably and my whole body constricted as I poured all my love, my body and my wetness onto her. She moaned as she took every bit of me in with her elegant mouth. Beloved.

Once I came down and my body unclenched, I adjusted myself so I could bring my lips to her delicious vulva. I wrapped my arms around her smooth thighs to brace them so I could devour her uninhibited. As if shy, her lower legs shifted and molded from the talons and became human. She doesn't need to do that. Does she not know how loved she is, as she is? We would work on that. We would have all the time in the world now. I returned my focus back to her and lowered my sweet lips to hers. I slowly grazed the folds of her labia. She was like honeyed limetta, sweet and tart to the taste. Perfect. I moved my tongue in circles around her clitoris, and my finger slipped inside her, then two. I gently, but deeply massaged her inside as I feasted on her. She gripped the sheets around her, then ran her fingers down my back as I relished every touch of her to my face. My fingers curled back to press against her most erogenous spot inside her, my head bobbing as my tongue licked and flicked against her clit. She went wild, grabbing my hips from behind me, then sliding down to hold my ass - desperate to cling to any part of me should could reach to brace herself as I edged her to orgasm.

"Oh my gods, Farah - you're a goddess of pleasure! Don't stop, little one! Gods, never stop!" Her body jerked, and her legs flexed as she showered me in a flood of her orgasm. I was soaked in her. Beloved.

"Oh god, I'm coming again my love!" I suppressed the scream into little more than a whisper as my core began to pulsate, my thighs shaking against Layal's silk body. I squirted like a geyser of wanton passion over my lover's bare skin. Like it was precious to her, Layal lifted herself to meet the floods of my passion, and again she lapped up every bit of me, then kissed whatever of my skin she could reach. She was passion and fire, a beast of eros and desire. And she was mine. We laid there, a pile of flesh and fluids. Layal began giggling gleefully, and I couldn't help but laugh hysterically. And there we laid like idiots on the soaked bedsheets, laughing together like schoolgirls. After I recovered in her care and we had cleaned everything up, we laid in our fresh bed together, my head resting against her shoulder as she twirled my hair.

"You're my first, Layal - this love. I've never felt like this for someone before." I whispered as she continued curling my hair. My mind kept wandering trying to make sense of all that I was feeling. I was curious, excited, scared.... But most of all, I was happy. Finally and for once, happy. Layal smiled at me, warmly as she released my hair to stroke my face gently as she whispered to me sweetly about the life we would have together until I drifted off in her arms.

...

I awoke the next morning, got dressed and headed to the Hakim Ma'shar's study. When I arrived there, the Hakim was not there. Instead, three palace guards stood, armed, in the room. Two more guards stepped behind me.

"What is this about? My name is Azhar al-Rashid. I'm an assistant of Abu Maʿshar Jafar ibn Muḥammad ibn Umar al-Balkhi. What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

"You will submit yourself to the Shurta, Azhar al-Rashid. By order of the Caliph, you are under arrest" a sixth guard said when he entered the room behind me. They wouldn't tell me why I was under arrest, but slapped irons on my wrists and escorted me from the Bayt al-Hikma. I was registered without being allowed to speak and thrown into the Mathak Prison to await trial the next day.

The next day, I was taken to stand before the judge for trial. I stood there, in the same clothes I had worn yesterday during my arrest - but now they were covered in mud and grime from the floor of the prison. I stunk, and wished for a nice, hot shower. Instead, the heat of the sun was trying to scorch the dirt clean from me. When the judge came and sat before me, he said nothing and didn't look at me at all. I scanned the courtyard around me but didn't recognize anyone until Hakim Ma'shar walked in from the gate. I looked to him, searching for any signs of pity or even acknowledgment; but he offered none. Without so much as a glance, he quietly took his position in the courtyard. Finally, my accuser spoke up, loud enough for everyone to hear. I recognized him from the Bayt. His name was Ahmad: another assistant of one of the scholars, like me.

"Azhar al-Rashid, you have been charged by the Muhtasib on a number of criminal, immoral and perverse practices during your tenure at the Bayt al-Hikma. You will be tried according to each of these charges, will be judged, and if so deemed necessary, you will be punished according to your judgments." His tone was strangely calm and calculated, though he had a sort of snarl on his face. He read the charges, one at a time, which included sexually immoral acts, sexually immoral acts with a woman, sexually immoral acts in a public institution, breaking into the archive library of the Bayt al-Hikma, stealing from the same archives, abuse of my position of authority, public indecency, and - worst of all - impersonating a man. After my charges were read, the judge's face hardened as he spoke up.

"These are serious charges you bring before the court against this man, Ahmad. Do you have proof?"

"I do, and with permission, I will present them before the court" Ahmad replied. He began to bring forth a host of witnesses. The first was the archivist I knew who had let me stay late the night before.

"Two nights ago, at the appointed hour, I began closing the library as usual. Earlier in the afternoon, Azhar had asked me to stay late that night, proposed that I give him the key, and that he would return it the next day. Obviously, this was an act that would be unethical, so of course I refused. I didn't notice my missing key until I searched for it the next morning. He must have stolen it after I locked the gate. I found it the next day, placed as though I somehow forgot it. But I swear on the heavens, I did not. He stole it and let himself in during the night." I frowned at the lie, my blood rushing into my chest in anger. Ahmad slapped a small, worn scroll on the table before the judge. I squinted to get a better look in the bright sun. It was my scrap scroll!

"A scroll, containing the words, in Greek, of Aristotle, written by Azhar's hand. Clearly they stole this text from the archives." What? Granted, copying scrolls like this from the archives is not allowed; but everyone has done it. Hell, I've watched Ahmad himself do it before! Another witness came, a servant in the Bayt.

"I came in early in the morning yesterday to make sure the academy was clean. It was after the dawn. I was sweeping the floors of the library, and when I came near the archives, I heard sounds my heart will not allow me to repeat. Women were screaming and morning like whores. I heard the sounds of banging and crashing and groaning. Afraid someone was being beaten, I left the place not wanting to be beaten myself. I came back later, and nobody was there: but books and scrolls were thrown everywhere, and there was semen on the table, the floor and on the books." What?! How can anyone believe such a blatant lie?! There was not even anyone there but Layal and I. No man. We left long before dawn. I slept in my own bed for hours! And the place was clean, and not a book or scroll out of place. I made sure Layal left it undisturbed before we left!

"I can corroborate the slave's testimony" Ahmad spoke up. "I came to the library gate late after night had fallen. The gate was ajar, so I went in, fearing something had happened to the archivist. When I reached the entrance of the archives, there was light coming from inside the room. I heard...shameful sounds. I cannot confirm that there was a man; but I did hear the voices of more than one woman, so I hide around a corner and waited. A couple hours later, two women came out of the room...With not a stich of clothing on their godless bodies except the clothes of a scholarly assistant, a beard and wig draped of the arm of one! She was holding the other in her arms as well. I followed them from a distance as they went to Azhar's dormitory room." The judge looked appalled and spoke up.

"Ahmad, this is a harrowing story you tell: but it does not prove that the clothes were Azhar's."

"True, but there is any easy way to prove that here!" Ahmad stomped over to me, forcefully grabbed my arm, and violently pulled me to my feet before he ripped my beard from my face, then tore my tunic, leaving me naked before the whole courtyard. The entire crowd gasped with the collective sound of distant thunder.

"Now you see her wicked truth before your very eyes, most excellent judge! This is no man before you: only a wanton whore!" The judge turned his gaze in protest.

"Cover that woman up, Ahmad! You've made your point, and this court will not be corrupted by this creature's wickedness!" Ahmad was thrown a blanket, and he covered me with it. It did not cover my shame and disgrace though. "Abu Ma'shar! You are responsible for your assistant! Who have you to say to this?" I turned my humiliated eyes to my Hakim, hoping against hope that he would show me some kind of compassion. He still wouldn't even look at me.

"My lord, I am as shocked as you are. She lied to me as well. She has made a fool of me, and of the whole Bayt al-Hikma, and I will not have it! I cannot attest to the other accusations against her this day; but the truth of what she is, is right over there! Punish this creature as you will, but as for me: I am innocent, having been fooled by her as all of you.!" The judge turned his hateful gaze on me. He looked like the angel Michael, ready to punish the evil monster, Iblis. He sat there for a moment, fury raging on his face towards me.

"What have you to say for yourself, Az-- I do not even know your name, wallah!" I sat silently in my shame for a moment: my shame that was now standing in the midst of my neighbors and peers, and all of heaven. I was guilty, even if their testimonies and evidence were a sham - I was not worthy of being there. I lied. I committed sin. I made love to another woman. Layal. Beloved. No, they will not take that away from me. They cannot take that away from me. I am beloved. I am worthy. I am.....I straightened myself, held my head high, removed my turban and wig, and let my hair fall against my back. And then I looked the judge in his eye and slowly, proudly rose to my feet.

"I am Farah al-Rashid: a woman, a lover, and a scholar! The testimonies made against me - most of them false, but some truth in the charges. I am not ashamed of what I have done. I lied, and impersonated a man: it is true. Women have been known to study and work in the academies, yes. But they do not have the rights or the prestige or the freedoms of the men. I did not wish to be treated as less than any of you. I did not deserve it for being born a woman. And I am proud to be a woman. I am in love with a woman, this is also true. And yes, I have made love with her. I will not tell you who she is. You will not harm her. But as for the rest of it, all of the rest were lies. I am not ashamed of who or what I am, nor of what I have done. I did what I must for the sake of science and love, and have done no wrong. I will deny nothing of the truth. I will not be ashamed for my truth. Whatever happens now, it does not change who and what I am. I am a woman. I am a scholar. I am beloved - and whatever you do to me, you will never be able to take that from me!"

"Enough!" yelled the judge, jumping to his feet. "Farah al-Rashid, you are judged guilty of all the charges laid to you! For your sexual immorality, you will be flogged! For your thievery, you will lose your hand! And for your deceit and dishonor, your contempt for this court and for the world order that has been prescribed by Al-Qayyum himself, you will be put to death by stoning as an adulteress at sundown! Insha'Allah, may you find mercy in his hands! Take this beast out of my sight!" Two Shurta came, took me by each arm, and dragged me out of the courtyard. I was taken back to the prison, given a dirty piece of material that looked almost like a sackcloth over my nakedness, and taken back to my cell to await my punishments.

...

Layal, my love, I have spent these hours, my last hours on this earth, writing this letter on the scraps of paper and with the pen and ink I stole from the table when they were finding this cloth I now wear. I am writing all to you all that you have given me, all that I have felt so you may know how you too are beloved. Please, do not be angry. You told me that you did terrible things when she was taken from you. I do not want that here--not because they deserve anything. I do not want that for you, my love. I do not regret anything that has happened, except the years together that never will be. You deserve happiness, and love and you deserve to be free of the anger and the guilt that you already feel from before. And my Kierngiyya: you are so loved! Please, do not compound upon their sin.

I am, and forever will be yours. And now, as I face my accusers, I do so a free woman. I am finally free - from fear, from guilt, from shame, and I no longer must hide who or what I am. And I will remain, free and beloved. I am grateful for our time together. I am grateful for your love. And I am grateful for my life. Live yours, my love. Live it well. Live it free. I only wish I could hold you, feel your touch one last time. Until we meet in the next world, I am forever yours. Goodbye, my Kierngiyya. I will love you, always.

Glossary

Assalamu Alaikum - (Arabic) A traditional greeting meaning "Peace be upon you"

Bayt al-Hikma - (Arabic) "The House of Wisdom" - A vast library and academy in Baghdad during the Islamic Golden Age, known especially during the Abbasid Caliphate as an intellectual center for scholars, philosophers, mathematicians, zoologists, astrologers, etc. One of the major undertakings of the institution was the translation of texts written in foreign languages into Arabic - such as the works of Aristotle, for example.

Insha'Allah - (Arabic) an expression meaning "If God wills", in this case describing a deep desire for something

Kurngi - (Sumerian) "Light of Night" - transliterated "dKUR.ĜI6."

Muhtasib - A sort of morality police force during the Abbasid Caliphate - normally responsible for monitoring fair trading practices in the Souqs and Mosques, but also would perform some duties in such places as Madrassas or other institutions

Pishdar - a dog breed native to Iraq, today commonly known as a Kurdish Mastiff or Assyrian Shepherd

Salat al-Jumu'ah - (Arabic) A special congregational prayer held on Friday after noon.

Shurta - The police force or "elite force" during the Abbasid Caliphate, responsible for public order

Souq - (Arabic) The marketplace

Takbir - (Arabic) A common phrase in Islamic religion, "Allahu Akbar" ("God is greater") - used in many contexts and situations

Walaikum asalaam - (Arabic) the proper response to the above greeting - "And may peace be upon you"

Wallah - (Arabic) a very common Arabic expression used in many contexts, meaning "I swear to God"