Tiara - Wife's Choice
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The Excellent Wife for an Excellent Husband
By: Tiara (eunuch@bmeworld.com) Other (customary cliterectomy)
Writers's Note : Greetings to Kortpeel, PB, A+, Limpone and all you great writers here in the BME Eunuch Archive! Tiara here! I know that my intended story took forever to write, so I apologize for my incompetence. My friend Safina, however, have a story of her own to write about. Hope you all enjoy it!
:-) Tiara :-)
Note: Safina does not speak English well. Zuleyma and I are trying to translate what she wrote, but we do not speak English as our first language, so forgive us for any kind of grammatical error.
May peace be with you. My name is Safina. I am 26 years old and now currently live in one of those Asian countries where Islam is the majority religion. I am happily married to my husband Qaseem. Economically we are in the upper middle class, my husband is a successful businessman, and I have a job as a teacher in a kindergarten. Oh, by the way, Zuleyma and Ishtar (Tiara) is my friend as well.
Qaseem is a wonderful husband. He is a firm person who respects his beliefs very much, but he is also very gentle and always speaks to me and to everyone else in a pleasant way. He is very light in compliments, and he is always smiling. I love him very much because he is very loyal, and despite his wealth he never intends to take another wife.
I have a secret thing to share with you. Zuleyma and Ishtar know this as well. When we were younger, we spent a lot of time together. In Muslim countries, girls do not play with boys. This doctrine of separation is called Hejab. When girls want to go out, she must wear abaya and jellaba, that long dress and that thick scarf which covers our entire body, head and hairs. Some women from the very high and the very low families wear Purdah, or the veil which covers their faces as well. Consequently, girls very often spend most of their time playing with girls, usually their siblings or the daughters of their neighbours. We know nothing about boys, other than the fact that sometime in the future our parents is going to arrange our marriage with one of the sons of our relatives.
When I was about 13 or 14, I noticed that, if I touch a certain partof my farji (female genital), I feel this ticklish feeling, which, after a while, became very pleasant. Soon this become a habit to me and I liked it. One day Zuleyma and Tiara caught me on the act, and I was forced to confess. They were interested enough to ask whether it feels good, on which I replied yes, but they were not interested enough to do what I do. They told me that I'll be in trouble if my parents find out, so I learn to be more discreet the next time. And I was never caught.
When I was 19, my parents arranged my marriage with Qaseem. He is a relative, and he is very handsome. He is also very polite, highly educated and he is about to inherit his father's very successful business. He bought textiles from southeast Asia with very cheap price and sells it at a commanding price in our country. When the first time I met him I was very shy, but he was very gentle, smart, charming and he made me completely at ease.
And so we got married. In our wedding night, it was the very first time I sleep together in one room with a man. I never seen a naked man before, and I did not wish to undress. Qaseem agreed that I needed time to adapt with him. So he waited very patiently. Took me four days to finally let Qaseem touch and kiss me. I was very very uneasy and I did not enjoy it at all, but then Qaseem is a very nice man and I did not wish to make him angry. When he finally undressed me, it was under a thick bedcover on a darkened room, so he did not see much of me. And I certainly did not wish to see much of him. At that time, my attitude was very different with the one I have today. I considered any contact with man as disgusting. Honestly, when I was with Qaseem for the first time, I wanted to cry all night. I wanted to throw up. It was good that he was so gentle. I did NOT let him enter me though. He was trying to get his zakar (male organ) to enter my farji, but I think he sensed that I am not enjoying it at all. It was truly amazing of him that he simply sighed, said : "Lalla Safina, seemed like you are not ready yet. That's ok my love, I will wait until you are." Then he kissed me on the forehead, gave me my abaya back, wrapped his hand around me and went to sleep.
And so the first year of our marriage is quite sexless. For his part, at least. I know very well that he did not have sex with another woman. He is much too religious for that. But myself, well, to tell you the truth, I got my sexual satisfaction by rubbing my farji until my whole body became tense and I feel this tickling sense that engulfed my farji and made me blushed. At that time I had grown so accustomed to it that it never even crossed my mind that a man could give this much pleasure that I can give myself.
I was so very lucky that Qaseem is a nice man. I think he deserved good treatment, because he treat me well. Very well. When I desire something, he always brings it to me the next day. When I want to visit my friends and relatives, he will personally drive me there and pick me up after he returned from his workplace. He also helped my family a lot, especially in financial matters. I try my best to reciprocrate his kindness. Mind you, I was not a 100% useless wife. Outside the bedroom, I am a very obedient wife. I cook delicious food for Qaseem. I conversed with him daily, I keep the house nice and clean for him, I do his laundry (our servants do mine), and generally I try the best I can to be a good housewife.
But when things comes to serving Qaseem, that's where I freeze off during the first year of our marriage. I don't know how did Qaseem manage to put up with my constant rejection of his advances. The farthest he could go is to undress me, but that's it. I never allowed him to get his zakar where it belongs. There were times where he was quite upset, but when I started to cry and calling my mother's name, Qaseem becomes softened and will hug me and say : "I wish one day we can consummate this marriage, and you will not fear me anymore." What a sweet man.
I know I was a truly selfish wife at that time. I seek my pleasure with my own fingers and I was depriving my husband of the pleasure he rightly deserves. But then again, I was not in love with him. I feel no love towards him at that time. All I feel is the obligation to become a good wife, to uphold the family name. Therefore, my heart, like my farji, was never really open to him. In fact, my act of masturbation increased very much, I can do once or twice a week.
Then, disaster struck. I noticed that I become less and less energized. I had unexplainable headaches and sometimes I even fainted. Worse of all, my farji begin to discharge smelly things, a kind of mucous, yellow-whitish in color. Qaseem noticed it and asked me what is wrong. I said, that's nothing, that's women's disease. But he was not satisfied with my answer, so he told my mother and his mother. Both women advised me to go to a tabeeb(doctor), but I flatly refused. I dread to have the tabeeb find out that I am still a virgin. And my disease has become worse and worse. Even Qaseem never tried to advance, due to my smell.
At first I tried to ignore it, I ignored it for months, but then my fainting and headaches became worse. his mother decided to take me to a gynecologist. Of course I refused. But when my own mother ordered me too, I finally gave in, under the condition that I want to go to the gynecologist all by myself, not accompanied by any family members. Of course, Qaseem's mother disagreed. At last we came to an agreement that Zuleyma is going to accompany me. But I never set a date yet, I try to push it back as much as I can. I even fainted when I was having a conversation with Zuleyma (who visited me). She promptly took me to the hospital and I was there for a day. And it was then where I learned about the true extent of my disease (a kind of fungal infection), and the fact that the fungus has "killed" my reproductive ability. And my world fell apart for a while.
I never really know for sure how did I got the disease. I never had any kind of sexual intercourse with any man. And I think I know sanitation and personal hygiene well enough. The only explanation is that Allah punished me for my wrongdoings. If that's the case, then I think I deserved it.
According to Muslim law, Qaseem actually have a right to divorce me or to take another wife. And I am in no position to object. Why? Because I am barren, that's why. My womb cannot be planted by his seed. That fungal infection is a truly malignant one, which I did not realize until it was too late. Going out to a gynecologist is arather taboo subject in Muslim countries, and usually we don't go there until something really hurts. And by that time it happened, usually something terrible has been done and the damage is irreversible. I cried when the tabeeb told me that my marriage will be without a child of my own. All so sudden I feel like my womanhood is taken away from me. If there was any consolation, it must be the fact that my tabeeb finally was able to cure the fungal infection, so I don't discharge smelly mucous anymore. But he was unable to heal my womb.
Qaseem was as shocked as I was. As a son of a nobleman, his family expect him to father many children, to carry on his family name. But Qaseem soon got over it and think it does not matter. He said: "Do not worry my love. Marriage is not always about having children of our own. Look, my brothers and sisters have many nephews and nieces for us. Surely we can share our love and kindness to them as well, and we shall be a good uncle and auntie."
I learned to overcome my sadness and disappointment as well. I enrolled to a Madrasah Ibtidaiyah (some kind of Islamic elementary school) and was assigned by the headmaster to handle the kindergarten section. I meet children everyday, and I love the kindergarten kids very much, knowing that I could not get one of my own. I soon become a popular, because I like to buy presents for them and reward them if they are good. People from Arabic descents such as ourselves likes sweets, so every once in a while I bought American candies and chocolates, and the children like it. When they're happy, I am happy as well. So I can cope quite well with my disability.
There is one more thing to be taken care of, and that's my sexualneeds and Qaseem's. I started to get this guilty feeling, because we have been married for quite a while and for that time being I was never ever actually do my job as a wife. At the first year of our marriage, I justify my refusal to serve him on the grounds that I do not love him. Besides, at that time, to me the idea of me having sex with a man is totally disgusting.
However, after I get to know him for a while, I begin to realize that Qaseem is a wonderful man, someone who really deserved to be loved. I start to care for him like a brother. Every time I cook him something, do his laundry, clean his shoes for him or make him a cup of Arabica coffee, I did it out of gratitude for him being a wonderful, non-complaining husband for a long time. When I sleep with him, the feeling of disgust gradually disappeared. And he hadstopped asking for sex for a long time, so I feel very truly safe sleeping next to him. I was glad that he had learned to live without me having to satisfy him sexually. Like I said, I loved him like a brother, not as a lover.
There was this one night that changed my attitude for good. I was awake. I wanted to go to the bathroom and take a leak. The bathroom door was not locked. Just as I approached the door, I noticed that the lights is on, so someone must be inside. It must be Qaseem, I think. It is very unusual for him to be in the bathroom at that time of hour (3:00 in the morning). So I waited. And waited. And it took a very very loong time. I got curious. I decided to peek.
Imagine my surprise when I saw Qaseem is tugging vigorously on his zakar (male organ). Ya Allah, he is masturbating! I was speechless, but I was curious to see how it will end. It has been hours, and he didn't seemed to be able to orgasm. He tried left hand, right hand, both hands, with soap, no soap, and didn't work. His face painted with despair and anger. Suddenly he throw his head backward and shouted a vile Arabic oath that I never heard from him before. Seemed like he hurt himself, maybe a laceration because of too much masturbating.
Somehow, I feel myself overcome with guilt. Here it is, my husband, the one who loved me dearly, the one who had treated me with kindness and understanding, the one who truly deserved to be satisfied byme. And just because of my own selfish attitude, my husband must suffer sexual frustration for a long time. Just because of my own selfish attitude. I wanted to cry. And I did cry. I realize how bad I was. With trembling hands, I entered the bathroom, much to the amazement of Qaseem.
I kneeled at the floor, crying. "Oh my dear husband, please forgive me. I have made you suffer all this time, just because of my own inadequacy." And I fell a crying heap at his feet. Then Qaseem smiled, lifted me up, kissed my cheeks and said nothing. He just carry me to the bed, tucked me under the blanket, lie beside me,and smile. He said "I love you Safina" without a sound, and embraced me. Then he fell asleep, maybe due to exhaustion. It was I who couldn't sleep at that night. The burden of my guilt is simply too strong to let me relax. I had to do something. At 5 in the morning I get up for my morning prayer. I asked Allah what to do. And Allah replied in form of an idea. I must seek professional help.
In the following day, Qaseem and I agreed that I must see this marriage counsellor, in order to find out why I just don't want to have sex with him. I had about five to six sessions with this counsellor, which truly helped me to understand myself. Turns out that I by nature has this tendency to dislike men. Men do not turn me on at all. In fact, I leaned heavily towards women. I am a prime candidate to be a lesbian. Thanks Allah that my environment is a healthy one, my father is a great guy and I have great brothers as well, so I never grew up to resent men.
Another source of problem was my excessive masturbation. Seemed like I substitute my husband with my fingers. The counsellor told me that the physical sensation derived from stimulating my farji is indeed pleasurable, but she also told me that true sexual satisfaction came from the mind, because the brain is the body's biggest sexual organ.
I also learned that there is a fundamental differences between men's and women's sexuality. A man need physical orgasm very very much, because without orgasm he cannot ejaculate, and cannot make babies. But woman does not really need the physical orgasm for the orgasm's sake. A woman could also orgasm mentally, by the feeling of being able to pleasure her man. Or her mate (if she's a lesbian). In fact, I think there are different levels of physical orgasm. Personally, I don't go for huge, mind blowing ones. They kind of tire me out. I prefer that small, ticklish sensation which persist on the insides of my farji. I think that western scientist named Freud is right when he said that a woman may experience orgasm from masturbating and also experience orgasm from having sex with her man, but of those two, the latter is the more mature kind. I agree with Freud wholeheartedly.
And so, with my newfound knowledge, I tried to open myself to Qaseem's advances. And I was truly, very truly relieved. My first sexual intercourse with him was not as repulsive or as painful as I expected. I just kind of lying down, spread my legs rather passively, and let him do most of the "work." In fact, I kind of rather enjoy it when he kissed me, tickle me or stimulate my breasts. There was a slight pain when he finally entered my farji with his zakar, but it's not an unbearable pain. In fact, it is rather light compared to other physical pains I had in my life. And when he reached his climax, I got this feeling of satisfaction when I see him tensed, called my name, hugged me tightly and then fell exhausted in my arms. It is truly an amazing feeling, being able to please your husband.
We made love many many times since then. And each time we made love, I feel like I love him more and more. Over the first few weeks, I was able to experience both psychological and physical satisfaction. Seemed like the inner walls of my farji and its outer lips could also give lots of ticklish, very pleasurable feeling. Usually when I masturbate, I only rubbed that tiny bud on the top of the farji, you know, the tiny bud just on top of the hole where the pee comes out. I later found out the name, the westerners called it clitoris.
I also found out another fact, that not all women of my town have that clitoris thing. While Zuleyma and Ishtar has theirs intact, their mothers don't. Their mothers came from different tribe which has different customs, and one of the customs is that they will cut out the clitoris when the girl is about to approach teenage years. I don't know the reason, but I think it has something to do to prevent masturbation. And maybe, it may be out of entirely different reasons. Ishtar and Zuleyma told me that the reason is religious, but it is not written in the Quran, and the Prophet himself even forbid the doctors to cut out the entire clitoris. So it is truly a custom, and not a pillar of our faith.
Custom or not, I think the idea of not having that tiny bud is rather engaging. After all, men also loses a part of their zakar when they're entering adulthood, in a ritual called "khitan", where the tabeeb will cut out the excess skin on top of boy's zakar. So I see it's perfectly well for women to experience something as well.
I also began to resent my act of masturbation. I masturbated less and less. Finally, I got to the point where I hated my clitoris for robbing me the pleasure I can get from my husband. I want it to be gone, at I want to continue my day forever be liberated from the need of masturbation. I think my husband's zakar and the inner walls of my farji can give me all the psychological and physical satisfactions I need. Having clitoris is only an invitation to masturbate. And since it has become a source of distraction and resentment, I think I would be better without it.
And so, I talked to Qaseem, asking his permission to remove my tiny bud. Qaseem actually disliked the idea, telling me that it means nothing to him. I said, it means a lot to me. Of course, I cannot tell him that I masturbated a lot behind his back. I just use women's most potent weapon: tears. I faked a cry, and begging him to arrange a session with the gynecologist. He complied, of course. Glad to know that I have such a wonderful husband!
And so, I had the operation. The hard part is the injection, it was quite painful. I got injected in several places which I don't remember now. Then after a while I felt nothing at all in my farji. Then the tabeeb is kind of working on it, I see a bit of blood, and it's done. Just like that, less than five minutes. And the cutting wasn't painful at all, I even walked home with Qaseem. The tabeeb said that I must not have intercourse for about 3 weeks and be careful and be very clean when peeing. Qaseem took care of me when I was recovering, and I got this thrill watching him running all around the house, trying to make everything perfect for me. He really tried, and he even climbed the palm tree himself to fetch me my favorite dates. What a husband. I love you Qaseem!
After the time limit ended me and Qaseem started to make love again. I feel many differences, now my farji does not tickle that much anymore. I lost some sensitivity on the outside of the farji, but the inner lips and the inner walls of the farji still derive much pleasure. And the psychological feeling is deeper too. Now I know that I have made a sacrifice for my husband, and I feel glad,in fact a bit proud of it. Back then when I masturbate, the pleasurable feelings is only in my clitoris. But now, the pleasurable feelings is all over my body, especially in my nipples (which he loves to kiss and nibble on), the inner walls of the farji, and also the lips of the farji. And I got this unexplainable feeling of satisfaction when I sensed his orgasm. Just the feeling of him fell satisfied and exhausted on top of me, in my embrace while whispering "I love you", is more than enough to me. It is a worthy reward for sacrificing my clitoris.
Alhamdulillah (Allah's Name Be Praised), now Qaseem and I are filling our days with love and happiness. I got everything I ever need in my love: A great husband, a great job, a great home and agreat sexual life. What more could I ask for? I wish all women in this world is as happy as I am now!
Safina
(Tiara's Note : I think Safina is telling the truth. My mother has no clitoris, and yet she enjoyed making love with my father. That's one of the advantages of being women I guess, we can enjoy our sexuality even without clitoris).