Take Three
Hijabs
Nice is an
amazing place to visit, even in the chilly winter, and as Habiba walked out of
the shopping arcade she needed the sunglasses to shade her eyes from the bright
sunlight. The young woman was wearing a
black leather jacket over a white lace top, and a long black leather skirt which
covered her knees, the rest of her legs in a pair of stiletto heeled black
fabric boots. Finally, a tiger print
scarf was wrapped in a hijab style over her head and round her neck, preserving
her modesty for all.
She started to
walk down towards the shoreline, the heels of her boots clicking on the
flagstones as she did so, drawing admiring glances from the men as she passed
them – and from one or two of the women as well. Habiba did not notice those looks – her focus
was solely on what she had just purchased, and how her husband would react when
he saw her in them in the privacy of their own home upon her return.
The atmosphere
was so intoxicating, she didn’t pay much attention to anything – so the van
slowly following her as she turned up a side street didn’t even register in her
eye line. Not even when it stopped just
before her, and the side door opened.
It was only
when the damp, sweet smelling cloth was clamped over her nose and mouth from
behind that she reacted, opening her mouth to scream – and then feeling the fog
seem to go inside her head as she inhaled deeply the fumes. The sky seemed to fade away as her eyes
flickered, and slowly closed, before she was lifted into the back of the van
and driven away…
The two men
gently laid her down onto the floor of the van, one of them crossing Habiba’s wrists
in front of her as the other picked up a length of black rope. He doubled the rope over, and then lashed her
wrists tightly together, taking the rope several times round her limbs before separating
the ends and taking them between her arms to tighten the binding. He then took a second length of rope, and
crossed her ankles before binding them together in the same way, the rope
sinking into the soft fabric.
As he did that,
the second man removed her glasses, and then gently opened her mouth before
easing behind her teeth a clean, folded cloth.
He then peeled the end from a wide roll of black tape, and stuck that to
the side of Habiba’s chin before lifting her head and winding the tape round,
covering her mouth as the black band sat on top of her hijab.
He then sat her
up, holding her in placer as the first man took a much longer length of rope
and bound her arms tightly to her sides, her jacket opening under the tension
of the ropes as they framed her chest, and then he lowered her to the floor
again as the men wound bands of rope around her legs, above and below her
knees, forcing them together as the skirt was compressed underneath.
“One down?”
“One down – two
to go…”
They sat with
Habiba as the van moved along…
The quiet
farmhouse sat in the hills above the town, secluded, unvisited – and perfect
for Vardah as she looked out across the landscape. The young woman had hired the house precisely
for the seclusion, as she tried to finish her thesis.
She was –
unusually dressed for a woman of her faith, the black hijab contrasting with
the long brown leather coat dress she was wearing, the belt fastened tightly
round her waist. On her feet were a
matching pair of short leather boots, but as she turned and walked back into
the house she knew she had more to write.
So she stood in
front of the laptop, and started to type, her focus total, her concentration
complete…
“Don’t move,
don’t make a sound.”
As Vardah heard
the sound, she also felt the pressure against her back, as she whispered “who
are you? What is going on?”
“Questions will
be answered later, my dear lady. For
now, do exactly what I say. Slowly,
stand up and put your hands by your sides.”
Feeling she had
no choice, Vardah slowly stood straight, her hands by her side as she heard the
sound – not unlike plastic being peeled away for some reason. She then gasped as she felt something stick
to her left wrist, and glancing down she saw black covered arms winding white
tape round her body, fixing her wrists against her sides before they started to
slowly move up her body.
She could see
the white sheath growing larger, her arms forced against her sides as the brown
leather disappeared underneath, coming up to her neck as she continued to
wonder what was happening. She could
sense the man behind her, as he patted the tape down to the back of her neck,
and then she heard the peeling sound again, and he started to wind the tape
down around her legs.
Vardah still had
no idea what was going on, as she felt the sweat on her body, but as with her
upper body her legs were slowly, steadily being encased in the white sheath,
forced together as she felt a second pair of hands steady her on her shoulders.
“Is this a
kidnapping?”
“Open your
mouth.”
Vardah did the
opposite, clamping her lips shut – until the hand pinched her nose, closing her
nostrils, and eventually she had to open her mouth to breathe in. That breath was followed by a folded scarf,
which pressed her tongue down and filled the space behind her teeth before he
lips were covered with the same white tape.
She could feel it as it was smoothed down, forming to the shape of her
jaw and mouth, before she was tipped back and carried out of the farmhouse, one
man holding her shoulders and the other her ankles.
They walked her
to where a vane was parked, but as she was lifted in Vardah saw a second woman
there, her eyes closed, black rope around her body and legs holding her black
leather clothing tightly against her, black tape over her mouth.
“Wshhsshsss?”
“You’ll find
out,” the man said as he closed the doors and then banged on the side, Vardah
struggling with her head on a cushion, trying to make sense of what was going
on…
Chaman could
feel the chill from the sea air as she walked along the boulevard in
Cannes. She was certainly dressed for
the time of year – a thick black coat over her red jumper and pants, the black
belt round her waist also holding the ends of her red and black plaid scarf
against her. Her legs were further
protected by the knee length black leather boots, and a red hijab covered her
head and neck.
She smiled as
she entered the apartment building, fetching the keys out of her handbag and
unlocking the door before she walked in.
Placing the keys in the bowl by the door, she walked into the main room
– and then slowly raised her hands in the air as she saw the man sitting in the
chair, the gun aimed squarely at her.
“Hello – put
your hands behind your back.”
“Oh no –
please…”
“Chaman, do as
I say, nobody gets hurt. Understand?”
Chaman thought
for a moment, and then nodded as she moved her hands down, moving them behind
her before she felt someone hold them together, and heard the rasping sound as
a plastic strip was tightened to hold them together.
“All right, so
what is this if it is not…”
“Hush…”
Chaman was
surprised to hear him say this, quietly, but with menace, before she felt the rope
round her own arms and body, forcing them into her sides as they further
immobilised her. She twisted round, her
coat rustling as it was stretched over her body, but it was no use – she found
herself unable to move her hands and arms away from herself.
“Look, you…”
“I told you to
be quiet,” the man said as whoever was binding her suddenly reached round and
squeezed her breast – but as Chaman opened her mouth to complain, she found her
voice stifled as a red rubber ball was pushed into her mouth, and then brown
sticking plaster pressed down over her mouth to keep the ball in place.
She was then
turned round, the man standing up and following as she was marched into her
bedroom and made to lie face down on the double bed. For a moment, Chaman was fearful, and then
she felt the rope round her legs, above and below her knees, as they were
lashed tightly together, followed by her ankles.
But then she
was lifted up and over the shoulder of the man who had bound her, her legs
kicking uselessly into the air as she was carried out of her apartment, down a
corridor to the rear of the building, and into a waiting van – where two more
women were lying, one covered in a white sheath, the over bound with ropes..
“Whssshhphnnhn,”
she mumbled as she was laid down – and then a damp cloth pressed over her nose,
the fumes invading her head and making her drowsy a soon as she inhaled…
Vardah could only
watch in horror as this new arrival was put to sleep, and then the man walked over,
the cloth in his hand as he knelt and pressed it over her nose and mouth…
As Habiba
slowly opened her eyes, she blinked in the bright light – and then blinked
again as she looked round. She was still
dressed as she had been – but now she was sat in a chair, ropes holding her
arms and upper body against the chair back and her wrists together behind the
chair back. Her ankles were secured together
to one leg of the chair, and also above her knees, gathering her leather skirt
around them.
She was also
gagged in a different way – she could feel the band pressing into her cheeks as
she tasted the cotton on her tongue, and felt it pulling the corners of her
mouth back.
Glancing to the
side, she saw two other women bound and gagged like her, their heads down – and
she realised she knew them both.
“Vhrrdh? Shrrhmhn?”
Both women groaned
as they slowly opened their eyes and looked round, then at each other, before
Vardah mumbled “Hebhbhhe?”
“Well, I am
glad to see you are all awake.”
All three
looked to the doorway to see the two men standing there, and then moving to the
side as a tall woman walked in, wearing a long black niqab, only allowing her
eyes to show. But those eyes were full
of sadness, as she was followed by a thick set man with fire in his eyes.
“FFHHRRR?”
“My men have
brought you home now,” the man said, “so that you can learn again your place.”
And as they
groaned, their mother sighed, the tape covering her own mouth unseen…
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