POT OF WITCHES 🏴‍☠️ (Continued)

"Whatever you do to another man's daughter will surely be done to your own daughter as well. For God's sake, Alhaji, preserve my dignity and do not ruin me," a young girl, barely twenty years old, pleaded through a stream of hot tears. Standing before her was a massive Alhaji, fair-skinned and sporting a protruding, heavy potbelly.
He smiled, causing his thick beard to shift, as he stroked his stomach, which was completely covered in coarse hair stretching from his lower abdomen all the way up to his chest. "Ameera, how many times must I tell you that Alhaji Mudi does not know the meaning of mercy? Please, stop begging. When you do that, it only excites my passions further," he said, taking a step closer to her.
She quickly recoiled, wiping away her tears. "For God's sake, have mercy on me! By God, if I stay out late, Umma will beat me mercilessly."
He flashed another wicked grin before roughly shoving her down onto the massive mattress laid out in the room. She scrambled desperately to sit up, but he pinned her down beneath the crushing weight of his heavy stomach. "Shhh! My baby, there is absolutely no way your Umma will ever find out, let alone beat you—unless, of course, you choose to open your mouth and tell her."
Ameera gasped heavily for air under his suffocating weight. "For God's sake, Alhaji, let me up. What if someone walks in and catches us like this?"
He leaned down, licking the side of her neck. "I already locked the door; no one can see us. Just hold still, and I will take it easy with you." As he spoke, he began pulling down the zipper of her dress; he had already forcefully stripped her of her hijab moments earlier.
She squeezed her eyes shut as hot, bitter tears of pure anguish cascaded down her cheeks, feeling the agonizing humiliation of Alhaji defiling her body. Aged and withered as he was, he placed his mouth onto her nipple, suckling aggressively like a young, red-blooded youth. Swallowing a massive lump of bitter sorrow, she forced out her words (LAFAZI / Miss Flower) with great difficulty, whispering, "Alhaji, you may have locked the door, but remember you haven't locked out the heavens. Allah is watching you, and He will surely avenge me." She said this because she could feel her dignity hanging on the precipice, having completely lost all hope that he would let her go.
Alhaji did not utter a single syllable in response. He ruthlessly continued his assault, fondling and forcing himself upon her body exactly as his desires demanded. Finally, he pulled away her wrapper and stripped off her underwear. Trembling with arousal, he exposed his member, which had been fully erect and ready since the beginning. He forced his way inside her. She wept and cried out in agony as Alhaji Mudi brutally stripped her of the most precious virtue a young woman possesses.
After the storm had settled, he personally washed her and thoroughly massaged her aching body with warm water before bringing her back out into the living room. She snatched up her clothes and threw them on, refusing to cast even a glance in his direction. She walked to the front door and rattled the handle, but found it securely locked.
Throwing on a jallabiya, Alhaji walked over and unlocked the door for her. He stepped out first, followed by Ameera, who walked with her legs painfully apart due to the agonizing trauma she had just endured.
"Come, let me drive you home. Look how late it has gotten; I don't want you crossing paths with those worthless street thugs who might trespass on my property."
Without offering him a single word, she marched toward the exit gate. The security guard, seeing his boss trailing behind her and calling out to her, initially blocked her path.
"Guard, take the keys and drive her back to her neighborhood," Alhaji Mudi commanded. The guard rushed forward, took the keys, and returned to Ameera, whose heart felt completely shattered.
"Please, Hajiya, step into the vehicle so I can take you home, for God's sake," the guard said gently. Ameera nodded weakly. The guard let out a sigh of relief and gestured toward the car. Limping and staggering painfully, she made her way over and climbed inside.
"Make absolute sure you drop her off right at her doorstep, and hand over the foodstuffs in the trunk to her parents," Alhaji ordered before retreating back into his house.
Once they hit the main road, the guard asked, "Where are we heading, Hajiya?"
Ameera drew a ragged breath. "Bagalam," she whispered. From that moment on, he did not utter another word to her until they drove into her neighborhood and arrived precisely at the entrance of her family home.
Her father, Abba, who was sitting outside on a raised mud platform, quickly jumped to his feet. He smiled greedily as he approached the car, seeing Ameera step out while the guard opened the trunk and began unloading heavy sacks of rice and other foodstuffs.
Ameera rushed past her father into the house, completely ignoring his questions about her late return. She bypassed the courtyard and locked herself straight into the bedroom, refusing to sit with her younger siblings, who were happily munching on peanuts and watching television.
Umma, having just concluded her prayers, peeked out into the courtyard after hearing the heavy thuds of rice sacks being dropped onto the floor. Whispering praises to Allah (Alhamdulillah), she stepped out and warmly greeted both Abba and the guard.
Once the unloading was complete, Abba walked into the house, grinning from ear to ear. "Mother of my children, do you see what I always tell you? When a man's destined blessings are knocked loose, even the most tight-fisted miser is forced to give—or else it becomes the death of him. Where is Ameera?" he asked, concluding his thought.
Umma smiled. "Oh, let it be. Alhaji Mudi is notorious for his stinginess; he hates giving gifts even to his own blood relatives."
Abba snapped back, slightly irritated, "Can we drop that talk? You're always criticizing my brother. It's nothing but gossip! You didn't even answer my question."
Umma pouted. "Well, it’s the truth. Ameera is in their bedroom. She’s probably still throwing a tantrum because you sent her on that errand without letting her finish watching her video, even though she was the one who downloaded the movie in the first place."
Abba scoffed, "Let her wallow in her foolishness, an idiot who doesn't know what's good for her! What does a video matter compared to food in our bellies? Tomorrow, by God's grace, when they cook a delicious pot of jollof rice, won't they praise Allah?" Umma didn't argue further and sat down to sort through the food supplies.

★★★ ADS

She stood in front of the full-length mirror wearing nothing but a pair of tiny booty shorts that barely covered her backside, leaving her legs entirely bare, while her cropped top stopped right above her navel.
She let her voluminous hair down into a wild, frizzy mane, then put on her headphones, covering her ears. She began to sway, twisting her waist and dancing with fluid, provocative movements that made every part of her body move. Immensely proud of her appearance, she continued dancing wildly, looking like a movie star or a professional dancer (Maimouna, wife of Abdallah). She bent her waist fluidly into a deep curve.
She was completely oblivious to her mother's arrival until Mamy forcefully ripped the headphones off her head. Munira froze in her tracks, pouting deeply and stomping her feet. "Mamy, please! I'm just relaxing. We finally finished our very last exam today. Please let me enjoy myself!"
Mamy shook her head in disapproval. "Munira, when on earth will you realize that you are grown? Do you still not know the spiritual dangers of constantly staring at yourself in the mirror?"
"I’ll stop, Mamy... right after I get married," she giggled.
Mamy frowned. "You are obsessed with marriage, yet you lack any substance or maturity. What kind of man would marry you just to watch you behave like a lunatic in his house?"
Munira flashed a bright smile and opened her mouth to argue, but Mamy raised a hand to silence her. "I don't want to hear any of your nonsense. Go put some decent clothes on. Your older brother has just arrived; the driver went to pick him up from the station."
Munira let out a piercing shriek of joy and bolted into the bathroom. "Oh my goodness, my brother, my other half! Let me hurry up and get ready before they pull up!" Mamy simply shook her head and walked out of the room.
Munira took a frantic shower, dressed quickly, and without even bothering to apply any lotion, grabbed a bottle of perfume and thoroughly sprayed her body. Hearing a car pull up outside, she tossed the bottle onto the bed and rushed out of the room.
The moment the car parked, he stepped out, deeply missing his mother. He practically stumbled in his haste, his eyes searching frantically for his first love. Suddenly, Munira came sprinting out. Without slowing down for a second, she leaped through the air and wrapped herself tightly around Munir, completely catching him off guard despite his frantic attempts to dodge her.
"Ya Salam!" he gasped, struggling to pry her off his chest. From the doorway, Mamy stood watching her children, a warm smile gracing her lips.
"Let go of me, for God's sake! Let me go greet my Mamy. You just rushed out and locked onto me like a vice; you're going to break my bones with your skinny frame," Munir groaned, grabbing her thighs and lowering her back to the ground.
She pouted. "Hey, I've actually started gaining weight! Soon, I'll be bigger than you."
He pinched her nose playfully. "Oh really, little girl? If you actually manage to gain weight, our house will turn into a local youth center. Young men will be lining up around the block every single day just to catch a glimpse of you. But as you are right now..." He trailed off and began walking toward the house.
Munira stomped her feet, chasing after him. "But as I am right now, what?" She grabbed his wrist playfully.
He smirked, teasing her, "As you are right now, you'll just sit at home forever with absolutely no suitors until you become a bitter old spinster."
She whined pretentiously, "Well, you're an OLD BACHELOR (TUZURU / Mrs SADAUKI) yourself! Besides, Daddy told me that our weddings will be held on the exact same day, just as soon as Jamil returns from abroad." He didn't reply, as he had already reached where Mamy was standing. He wrapped his arms around her tightly. "I missed you, Mamy," he whispered. She caressed his hair, and they walked inside together.
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Page 3–4

They all took their seats at the dining table. Mamu, the domestic maid, served them their meals before retreating back into the kitchen to continue her chores. Munira pushed her plate aside and slipped her hand into Munir's. "I swear, now that you're back, I am never eating alone again." He simply smiled, paying her no mind.
Mamy chimed in, "You've always hated eating alone anyway. Everyday, Imane begs you to sit down and eat with them, but you always refuse."
Munira pouted. "God forbid I eat with them! Before I can even swallow a single bite, they've already devoured five!"
Munir tapped her head playfully. "Yeah, and that's exactly why they are healthy and thick while you look like a dried-up sugarcane stick."
She laughed. "Don't worry, the moment I get married, I'll balloon up too."
Imane, walking into the room with a polite Islamic greeting (Assalamu Alaikum), chimed in, "Well, shouldn't you wait for us to get married first before you even think about it?"
Ihsane, who had walked in right behind her, added, "Oh, just leave her alone. She has nothing else on her mind except marriage, meanwhile Daddy has stubbornly refused to let us even present our suitors to him."
Mamy interrupted, "Go put your bags away and come eat instead of talking absolute nonsense."
Imane, who was nearly twenty-eight years old, puckered her face in irritation and headed toward their wing of the house. Ihsane, who was around twenty-five, dropped her bag on the sofa and headed straight to the dining table.
"Welcome back, Yaya Munir. So it's true you were coming home today?" she said, pulling out a chair to sit.
He nodded warmly. "Yes. Just wait until I finish eating; I'll give you your souvenirs since you're the only one who actually greeted me properly."
Ihsane cheered happily. "Yay! Thank you, my brother! Mamuuu?" she yelled, calling out to the maid. Mamu hurried out of the kitchen the moment she heard Ihsane's sharp tone.
Ihsane demanded arrogantly, "Pour me some food."
Mamu, who was old enough to be Ihsane's mother, quietly picked up a plate, dished out the food, and handed her a spoon. As Mamu turned to leave, Ihsane snapped, "And what about the juice? Do you expect me to pour it myself?"
Mamu turned back, filled her cup, and then retreated into the kitchen. Wiping away a silent tear, she whispered to herself, "Oh Lord, You have tested us with poverty. Only You can deliver us, for we are weak. Children young enough to be my own offspring order me around like a slave, simply because I work under them."
Back in the living room, Munira's eyes welled with tears after hearing Munir's teasing words. She puckered her face and whined, "Yaya Munir, I swear I was just so overjoyed to see you that I completely forgot my manners. Please forgive me, let me greet you properly right now." She knelt all the way down to the floor. "Good afternoon, Yaya. Welcome home. I hope your journey was safe?" They all burst into laughter. Seeing that his mood had softened, she returned to her seat and continued eating.
After they finished their meal, Munir began opening his bags to distribute the gifts he had bought, throwing everyone into a state of excitement. He handed Imane's gift to Ihsane, saying, "Take this to the Queen of Grudges since she refused to come back out." Ihsane took it with a chuckle and headed toward their bedroom.
She found Imane standing in front of the mirror, applying face powder. Ihsane tossed the gifts onto the bed. "Yaya Munir said I should bring these to you."
"Thanks," Imane replied flatly.
Ihsane frowned. "Why does your voice sound so strained? Have you been crying?"
Imane turned around, revealing her badly swollen eyes. "What else am I supposed to do? Didn't you hear how Mamy is actively supporting Daddy in their crusade to stop us from getting married? I am twenty-eight years old! When on earth do they expect me to get married?"
Ihsane sighed sympathetically. "They claim they want us to finish our education first. But a person can easily continue their studies even in her husband's house."
Imane scoffed, "Humph! Forget them. They completely forget that we are human beings with blood flowing through our veins; a time naturally comes when a person desperately needs a life partner. But they simply do not care."
Ihsane walked toward the bathroom door. "Well, keep wallowing in your self-pity. Even Munira, who is only twenty, is practically throwing herself out there trying to get married, let alone us."
Imane quickly cut her off. "No, I truly believe there is a deeper conspiracy in this house to stop any of us from getting married. Look at Yaya Ibrahim—he is thirty-five years old, yet marriage isn't even a topic on his radar."
Ihsane paused at the bathroom door. "No, that's his own personal choice. Even before he left for Morocco, Daddy directly brought up the issue of marriage to him, but Ibrahim claimed he doesn't want anyone disrespecting him. That's why he has never even approached a woman to declare his love."
"Humph," was all Imane said as Ihsane stepped into the bathroom to take a shower.
Imane changed into a long blue dress and wrapped a scarf neatly around her head before stepping out into the living room, leaving a trail of beautiful perfume in her wake. "Yaya Munir, how was the road? I hope you aren't too exhausted?" she asked, looking down at him as he lay on the couch.
"Alhamdulillah. Where are you off to?"
She replied directly, "I have a male guest waiting for me at the front gate."
He rolled his eyes secretly, thinking to himself, What a waste of time.
Imane looked at Munira, who was busy playing a game on Munir's phone. "Grab a bottle of water and a cup and bring it out to me," she commanded, before exiting the house without waiting for a reply.
He was sitting inside his car, wearing dark sunglasses over his fair face while typing away on his phone. Imane pulled open the passenger door and slid into the front seat. He tossed his phone aside, a warm smile spreading across his lips. "My beauty," he murmured. She pouted at him. He leaned in close and planted a soft kiss right on her lips—at that exact moment, Munira walked out of the house and caught them red-handed.
Munira rolled her eyes, walked over, and tapped sharply on the car window. Imane rolled it down, took the water from her, and Munira marched back inside.
Imane poured some cold water into the cup. He took a sip, held some of the water in his mouth, then gripped her chin tightly and forced it into her mouth. Since this neighborhood (ADS) was typically quiet with very few pedestrians, Jabeer took advantage of the isolation and deeply kissed Imane. Seeing that she wasn't resisting, his hands began to wander, fondling her breasts over her dress. They lost themselves in the moment for a long time before he finally released her, leaning back into his seat to catch his breath. "Beauty, why are your eyes so swollen?"
She found it impossible to respond, her voice caught in her throat. He took her fingers, gently massaging them. The warmth of their sweat interlocked, and the sheer softness of her touch sent a sudden wave of intense arousal rushing through him. Imane simply lowered her eyes, a shiver running down her spine as she filled with intense passion.
As they sat wrapped in each other, Alhaji Mudi’s car suddenly turned into the street. Terrified, Imane violently wrenched her hand free from his grip and bowed her head in a panic.
Alhaji Mudi parked right in front of the house, locking his eyes onto Jabeer’s car. Her voice trembling, Imane whispered, "Jabeer, please step out and greet my Daddy."
He snapped his head toward her. "Step out looking like this? Do you want our entire secret exposed?"
"Please, Jabeer," she begged.
He retorted, "For heaven's sake, Imane, look at this massive erection! How am I supposed to step out and greet my future father-in-law in this state?"
She fell silent and remained frozen in her seat. Seeing that she had no intention of stepping out of the car, and acted as though she hadn't even noticed him, Alhaji Mudi let out a deep hiss of rage and stormed into the house.

★★★ MOROCCO

The city was freezing, as it always was, with pure white snow cascading heavily from the sky. Ibrahim pulled his thick blanket tightly around his body after thoroughly rubbing himself down with Vicks VapoRub. He curled into a tight ball, squeezing his pillow tightly against his body. An agonizing wave of sexual frustration was pulsing through his veins; his member was so intensely erect it felt alive. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to picture himself with a woman, though he had absolutely no idea where to even begin with such thoughts. "Huuuuh," he exhaled deeply.
In his personal preferences, fair-skinned foreign women held absolutely no attraction for him. Was it simply because he was fair-skinned himself? Who knows.
He reached under his pillow, pulled out his phone, and unlocked the bright screen. Navigating through his browser, he began downloading adult films. Within moments, a large selection appeared on his screen. With trembling hands, he clicked on the very first video, which showed a foreign woman performing an act on a man. Ibrahim’s entire body began to shake as his erection throbbed violently. He continued scrolling through the explicit videos until he found one showing a couple having intercourse. Shifting his weight quickly, he reached down, gripped his member tightly, and began...
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Page 5–6

He began massaging the tip of his member, moving his hand up and down... As he did it, heavy sighs escaped his lips, and he suddenly broke into a profuse sweat, as if he had swallowed a scorpion.
After a long time, he finally achieved release and slumped back. Tossing the phone aside, he gasped out, "Astagfirullah! What on earth have I just done? Is this fornication? Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un! What has gotten into you, Ibrahim, for the devil to overpower you like this? It is finished... you have officially fallen into the degraded habits of modern youths who satisfy their lusts with their own hands and watch explicit foreign films—things strictly forbidden for a Muslim to lay eyes upon."
Filled with deep shame and regret, he stood up and walked into the bathroom. He mixed a basin of warm water and thoroughly performed Ghusl (the ritual bath of purification). Once finished, he stepped back out into the bedroom. He stripped the stained sheets off the bed, tossed them directly into the washing machine, picked up his phone, and completely deleted every single adult video. Then, he dialed Mamy's number.
When she answered, he greeted her softly, and before she could even speak, he asked, "Is everything alright? Who upset Daddy? I can hear him raging in the background."
From the other end of the line, Mamy replied, "He caught Imane sitting in Jabeer's car out front, heavily lost in conversation. That's what started it."
Ibrahim let out a sharp hiss of irritation. "What on earth is Daddy's problem anyway? Is he the one planning to marry them? For heaven's sake, the girls are fully grown! He should just let them marry and finish their education in their husbands' houses."
Suddenly, Daddy’s booming voice cut through the line. "No one is getting permission! They will focus on their education, and they must finish it here! And what about you? Weren't you given permission? Yet you have stubbornly refused to bring home a woman to marry!"
Ibrahim slapped his forehead in exasperation; he had no idea the phone was on speakerphone. Lowering his voice to maintain a calm tone, he said, "Daddy, that’s not the point. They are women; their prime years are much shorter compared to a man's. Since they have explicitly stated they desire marriage over a career, just let them have it."
Furious, Daddy barked back, "Oh really, old man? So I suppose we should all just sit around and wait until you finally decide to return from your endless foreign vacations before we can hold a wedding, right?"
Ibrahim’s temper flared. "May God grant you patience, Daddy. This matter hasn't escalated to that point. But do not forget that Allah will hold you strictly accountable for them on the Day of Judgment. Truly, because of how they treat their children, many parents will be cast straight into hellfire!"
"Innalillahi wa'inna ilaihi raji'un! Ibrahim, are you actively calling me a resident of hellfire? Fine! You've successfully proven to me that you think you're a grown man now. Now I see the real reason why you refuse to get married—you're too busy sleeping around with white foreign women over there! That’s why you prefer drifting from city to city like a wedding invitation distributor!" Click. The line went dead as Daddy slammed the phone down.
"Ya Salam!" Ibrahim groaned, clutching his head in frustration. He honestly couldn't understand what kind of father Mamy had chosen for them. Daddy possessed absolutely none of the virtues that defined a good, honorable patriarch. Ibrahim immediately began reciting Istighfar (seeking God's forgiveness), as it was the only thing capable of lifting the crushing weight of the world's miseries from his shoulders.
Back home in Niger, seeing that she had absolutely no other choice, Imane said a hasty goodbye to Jabeer and stepped inside the house. She paused just past the entrance, listening to the torrent of furious insults Daddy was screaming. Judging by the sheer volume of his rage, it sounded as though he was currently tearing into their eldest brother. If he was this furious with him, what on earth would he do to her, the very catalyst of the trouble?
Taking a deep breath and bracing herself, she stepped forward. Before she could even fully cross the threshold, he hit her with a devastating, ringing slap across the face that made her see stars. Before she could even regain her bearings, a second violent blow crashed against her other cheek, causing her vision and hearing to completely black out.
Before she could even process whether she was still in this world or the next, he swept her legs out from under her. She crashed heavily to the floor, and he ruthlessly began kicking and stomping her entire body, unleashing a barrage of foul insults and stripping her of all blessings.
"You worthless, boy-crazy slut! You had the audacity to sit comfortably in his front seat right outside my house, staring into each other's eyes like a pair of mating pigeons! What the hell were you doing? Why didn't you come inside the courtyard like you normally do? What kind of hypocrisy are you two plotting behind my back?" Alhaji Mudi roared, leaving Imane bruised, battered, and completely broken on the floor.
Ihsane and Munira had long since fled into their bedroom, weeping bitterly because they couldn't bear to watch the horrific beating. Mamy buried her face in her hands, her heart burning with intense agony, but she was entirely powerless to stop him. She was forced to just sit back and watch.
Meanwhile, Munir pulled out his phone and covertly recorded the entire domestic assault. The moment it was over, he secretly forwarded the video to Ibrahim via WhatsApp. He felt sick to his stomach over the situation, but he had no voice to speak up. Alhaji Mudi was so notoriously cruel that even the neighbors actively avoided him due to his volatile nature. Everyone in the household lived in perpetual terror of him, though Ibrahim would occasionally muster up the courage to push back.
Out by the main security gates, old Baba Garbati was quietly praying for Alhaji Mudi’s guidance, as Imane's agonizing cries filled the entire compound. He walked back toward his own quarters—a small room partitioned off with woven straw mats. The moment his wife, Mamu, saw him, she spread out a mat for him to sit. He sat down heavily, sighing, "May God deliver us. This family never knows a single moment of peace the second Alhaji steps foot inside this house."
Mamu replied, "That’s their own business. No one in that main house has any decency anyway. The only exception is that quiet one—Ibrahim. He never orders his elders around and truly understands the value of human dignity."
Baba Garbati nodded. "May God bless Ibrahim. Despite being highly educated abroad, it has never gone to his head or made him arrogant."
Mamu quickly shifted the conversation. "Halimatu is coming home sometime this week. She mentioned their school vacation is about to start."
"Yes, that's what her uncle told me..."