45 The Devil was Also An Angel (1/2)

”Ungh”

That was the only word I could utter after the bluntness of the bat had made contact with the back of my head. I could not remember what exactly had happened, at least on the first attempt. I also could not realize for a long time where I was, or what I was doing. What I was supposed to do? Was I even alive? Am I in a limbo? Would this be forever?

I sub consciously tried to move my right arm, but it didn't want to follow my command. I could feel the shaky movements of my arm when it made random contact with the ice cold floor. it moved to its own beat, and that music was non diegetic to my brain. It was like a fish, flopping around on the floor, relentlessly trying to find its source of life. In this case, me.

Like a character out of shounen manga, I gathered my willpower and moved one finger at a time. All the while my mouth didn't stop bleating in pain. the mixed noises of shrieks and grunts sounded utterly unpleasant.

After gathering the strength in all my five fingers and arm, I touched the area of impact. Strong in richness, and thick to touch, my blood oozed out of my skull like water from broken faucet. My senses were still trying to locate my eyes, and the only sense working right now was the sense of touch. I used it to reintroduce myself to my body. The first instrument I wanted to use was my eyes. Next up was my brain. I moved my arm once more and touched the tip of my nose. The rest was easy. all I had to do was open my eyes and see the four fingers I was holding up. I struggled to move my head in the desirable position and opened my eyes.

Nothing. I could see nothing. As if someone replaced my irises with black paper. Suddenly my heart started sinking. I was laying on the icy floor, with blood spilling out of my head. The other side of me really hurt. As if it was struck with cinder blocks. There was no voice to be heard, no footsteps going to and from me. There was no vision in my head. It was as if I had stepped into a pitch black abyss.

My breathing skyrocketed. The dread of the worst possibility seemed very tangible. I was vulnerable without my sight, and being situated where there was no other person to be found was alarming to say the least.

I started stretching my arms as far away as I could, just so I could hang on to something in case the worst happened. Without caring about my surroundings, I patted my surroundings and eventually my hands landed on a shaft like object. It was light in weight and had a grip to prevent it from slipping. I put my left hand around it and used it to push myself away from the ground. It was not difficult for me to do so, but the legs which had become noodles really put up a fight against me. After I was able to stand up on my own two legs, I gripped the wooden baseball bat that had acted as my crutch with both of my hands. I raised it behind my right shoulder, ready to swing at anyone or anything that came near me. What I didn't realize that it was the same bat that was dripping my blood from its end.

I tapped on the right side, the intact side, of my face. The attempt to gain back my visibility, however partial, would have been great. I flinched my eyes couple of more times and from the corner of my right eye something caught my attention. It was an assortment of green and blue jewels. After a little concentration, it came back to me that I was standing next to a bar, and the green and blue jewels were bottles of whiskey, reflecting the room's light.

With a little light passing through one of my eyes, I started swinging my head from side to side. I wanted to rattle my brain to restore my saved memories. While swaying my head furiously, I caught glimpses of my surroundings. A round bed covered with metal and leather instruments, an open doorway that preceded a long hallway. I opened my right eye with all my might and my brain started making sense of black plastic phallic object I was looking in front of me. A dildo. A long one at that. with leather straps on its ends. A Strap-On. An acquired taste.

I switched my vision from sex toys littered bed to the empty hallway. Silence was all around me. I gripped my hand across the bat and started limping towards the hall. It was a short walk from the room to the staircase. Just one right turn two hundred metres away gave a flight of stairs that landed in the middle of a giant dimly-lit room. I put my hand on the railing and carefully stepped down. It was a chore to walk with entire body in shambles, but I made it work. The bat became a well suited crutch.

After a walk down that felt lasted for eternity, I was on ground floor. after spotting another hallway, this time illuminated with black light and red LEDs, I decided to head towards it. As I walked away from the damned place, I heard faint footsteps coming my way. I looked behind me, and it was a maid standing behind me. I recognized her instantly. She was Amaan's personal assistant before I came along.

She stood there in front of me in silence. That's when I heard another set of footsteps leading towards us. From behind the maid's shoulder I could see Amaan. she was wearing all black and her heals pierced the silence every time she took a step forward. I let out a sigh of relief and smiled at the sight of her. but it only lasted for a moment as a pang of pain struck me into my head out of nowhere, leaving me weak in my knees.

I dropped the wooden bat and crumbled on the floor like Jenga blocks. I put my hands on my head and squeezed really hard. A fear flushed into my head that it was about to explode, and I needed to contain it. The grunts got louder and louder as Amaan stepped in my direction. The loud *tuck* sounds produced by her heels were reminiscent of long nails getting hammered straight into my brain. At last the grunts could not contain my pain and a loud shriek slipped through my lips. I filled the empty room with a sharp scream. In the meantime I turned my hands into claws and attempted to dig deep into my own skull. The pressure on the head as well as the pain in my body culminated into a wail that even paused Amaan from heading towards me.

I gritted my teeth and tried to contain all the pain that suddenly crowded in my hippocampus. The blood stained bat, variety of sex toys, leather clad Amaan and the smile that was more coy than welcome made me realize everything that had happened to me. With the limited distance between us, the dread of getting battered to death was heavy.

The maid came near me, and I only realized it after she shoved me back first into the bar, knocking the bar stools down. With a gasp, I clutched my back as a reflex and laid against the bar. As I opened my eye, I saw the maid retracting and putting a bar stool in front of me. Shifting my vision, I saw Amaan sitting in front of. She leaned a little and lifted her right leg. Her red stiletto hung in the air next to my ear. It was a unique stabbing instrument to say the least.

In a quick motion she put her other foot on my crotch. And when I bent down to see what was squeezing my vagina, she put the heel on my lips and forced its way through my teeth. I was in a very dangerous situation.

I could feel my tongue right below the thin heel, which was still on standby. It was not piercing my throat at the moment, and I couldn't ask for more.

”I have some desires. And they are monumental in size. But trust me, you will like them once you get used to it. But I do believe that you still don't know much about me. So I will give you four questions to ask me.”

I gulped. After overpowering me, she was giving me an info dump. I could not believe how much self absorbed would you have to be to become such egotistical individual. But that also meant I was alive longer. I weighed the options and chose to ask those four questions.

”Pleaz takke za heel outh.” I mumbled.

She obliged and took the damned footwear out of my mouth. I immediately closed it and lathered my dry mouth with spin. Gulping once more, I racked my brain for those questions.

”Amaan, do you like dominating people?”

Amaan heard the question and chuckled.

”Yes. I do. I have done it forever now. I did it with my husband. I do it with people who pay me. I do it to have an upper hand.”

”What? I thought you were oppressed in Saudi Arabia. That was also due to your husband.”

”Did I? Well, I might as well tell you how I got started. I was married to a simpleton. And to convince him about women status in orthodox country like Saudi Arabia was not normal was hard. He hit me. He abused me. Sometimes, he'd also **** me. You know, marital ****. But what I didn't know was that I was a masochist. And getting raped was the only time I could cum. So I pushed all my husband's buttons everyday. So much so that he'd be forced to **** me every time we had sex. After some time, he got annoyed and let his friends or colleagues or bosses **** me. I was in heaven. Different sizes and different techniques of sex, all week long.”

Amaan took a pause. She looked at my disgusted and surprised face. She gave me a coy smile and continued,” That made a strong case of my husband's oppression on me and a guy named Donald helped me skip the country. The first stop was Nepal, but I didn't settle down here immediately. I went to Amsterdam, Mississippi, Cuba, Vietnam, Egypt and Ghana. All these places taught me the pleasures of getting dominated and dominating my partners. And it was in Ghana when I discovered I was bisexual. You don't know what kinds of pleasure a well endowed black woman bring to your body. Anyway, I came back here, managed to trick the dean of Jazeera and secured a permanent teaching position.”

I had covered my mouth with my hand in order to contain my vomit inside. The individual in front of me was damned. She was rotten. She was evil.

But, was she really? Wasn't she doing everything I wanted to do? No reigns? No limitations? What was she?

So I asked her.

”What are you?”

Amaan broke down laughing at my question. I sat there with a blank look in my eyes. My heart housed only one thing: curiosity. I wanted to escape. I wanted to run away from her. but I wanted to learn from her. she had been playing me, playing a lot of people. I wanted to learn the art of deceit. No. I wanted to learn the art of degeneracy.

”I am omnipotent being, my dear Madonna. I am the one who holds the power to my dreams. I do not dream fantasies. I become one with my dreams and reality. I am the one who holds the power to dream big. and my dreams are my desires. The one individual who has full control on her desires is me.”

She sounded like a preacher to me. She was saying all those big things, that I almost got motivated by her bullshit. She spoke with such elegance that she'd put any politician to shame.

I was seeing her basking into her own glory. I totally believed a halo would surround her if I looked at her long enough. But I knew this was bad. I would give in and the lust of desires, if fulfilled once, would ruin me. Failure and broken dreams are important to make a human being. Omnipotence best suited cultists and gods.

With dirty conscience and disillusioned direction of mind, I asked her my third question: What made you do it to me?”

She looked back to me like a butcher looks at his soon to be slain calf. Eyes all full of fake sympathy, the soft cheeks and bright skin made my heart aflutter.

”Recreation.”

Huh, what did she say? Recreation? Is that it?

”A human being is made up of complex emotions and subtle nuances of intelligence and stupidity. To break all of it down into simpler, understandable portions of emotions is what I do. I have done it for years now. And you know the most impressive thing about it? I have yet to be proven right. The motivations of a person varies from like, lust, drive, devotion, and greed. But sometimes other scarce emotions like sacrifice and courage do come around, making the whole game even more fun to play.

You, Madonna, are the mix of latter two. You are born to sacrifice. It doesn't mean self sacrifice, and it also does mean that. the fact that you think you have taken steps in your life to improve other human being's life makes you some sort of hero in your own eyes. But the lust of you getting understood from the masses, getting an excuse for your actions is what makes you so much more appealing.”

I gritted my teeth. It was not at all true. It was not the case. At all. I did not look for forgiveness or acceptance. I never once did so.

”How about it, HitMaker?”

She Knew?!

”I talked to someone very close to Priscilla. His name was Cline, I suppose. By any chance, do you know him? What am I saying, you do right? You worked for Priscilla. you worked with her. and then, you worked her. nice job. But I don't understand one thing, why did you give up your moniker. The one alias that made you famous? HitMaker, it was a brand, and you gave it all away. You did it for Priscilla's sake, right? But, it can also be for yourself as much as it is for your rapper girlfriend.”

”No-No-No, I didn't…”

”You gave it away because you wanted someone to narrate the truth after you were gone. You did it because it was affiliated with you, and you didn't want to let the hardwork associated with that name to go to dirt. You wanted it to live, so that people like me can know who the true HitMaker is. You wanted to be associated with your past success so much, you made an incompetent producer the lead songwriter.”

Huh, what is she saying? Is it true? Did I do it because I wanted to be HitMaker. Did I do it because I didn't want to let go of my past? Have I still not learned to move on?

”As for why I did to you, you are a chewtoy. I am a bitch, and you are my chewtoy I wanted to play with you as much I wanted, and when you broke or tore, I wanted to get a new one. Do you know who is best suited for that role? The one person who is already broken. It really helped with your habit of sticking your nose in every situation. All I had to do is sit back and watch you implode.”

Amaan stood up, leaving me with the realization of my own ways. She walked behind the bar and poured three drinks for us. She came back in front and extended the glass full of thick golden liquid. I was in no place to resist. Alcohol seemed more of a solution, the escape, than this conversation. I instigated this conversation so that I could see what a piece of shit Amaan was. But the pointers she was bringing up was breaking my spirit up. I brought the glass to my lips and filled my mouth with alcohol. It was tasty.

I sipped away half the glass and Amaan watched me. She was calmly sipping on her champagne, while her maid had a glass full of whiskey in her hand like me.

”S-So, what else…” I said, dazed off the liquor.

”when you came for admission, I did see your then girlfriend, Blessing. I talked to her after you people left. She is a nice woman. I guess, she was a nice woman. But yeah, when she explained your situation, I took interest in you. You had that appeal that these students did not. So I wanted you to live here, around me. You need to understand that this game requires a lot of patience, and I am blessed with a lot. So I took my sweet time with you two. The day you dashed into my office and we had our seventy grade talk, was the day I drove my first nail into the plank. I had to make you realize your potential of failure. Even if it didn't matter to you, I created a need of grade in your subconscious. That played out when you realized the problems in your relationship. Which was: none. You see the problem in a relationship is always subjective, and that is why I was able to play it huge even when it was minuscule.