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Roohi — the Enchantress
A story of an imprisoned woman who was born to liberate men
For the world she was a prostitute, but for Reza she was a Goddess. Her name was Roohi. Her secret admirer, was enchanted by her aura. Reza understood her more than God. Roohi, in her late 30s, had served hundreds of men. The magical element she possessed was her innocence. She had never seen herself in the mirror.
Roohi’s parents were nomads, who were hunted down by the military for illegally crossing the Pakistani border from Iran. Fortunately, she was with her aunt, Shaista, who was meant to catch up with them later. But the Universe had planned something that even Gods wouldn’t have guessed. Shaista had a vision that her parents were murdered. She waited for a few months.
Her distant cousin, Momin, was passing by on his carriage and insisted that she joins the caravan with him. Shaista carried baby Roohi, who was just 6 months old, and continued her journey.
In the carriage, there were a dozen lost souls, who had been rescued by Momin. He truly was a Saint, who never discriminated between people. He only saw their souls, even if they did not see his. He did not see borders, his vision included the unity of Earth, Water, Air, Fire and Sky.
When they reached the Pakistani border, they were stopped by the soldiers. One of them asked for the documents, but they did not have any. He could sense that they were desperate, and glanced at a young girl, sitting at the back. Momin knew what he was looking for. This was not the first time, they were facing this situation. The girl was way more clever than she looked and got out, before Momin asked her to.
She whispered, inviting him inside the carriage, while others got out. Momin parked his chariot in the corner, and started playing his violin to keep things hush. The young girl, unzipped his pants, grabbed his cock and kissed the tip with a dagger and put her hand on his face. He knew she meant business and raised his hands, agreeing to her request. He got out, acting macho, as if he had giving the girl a hard time, and gave the signal to his colleagues to let them go.
They crossed the border, laughing and singing, and entered Balochistan, the deserted province. Momin and his gang travelled to various villages and small cities, but finally settled in Quetta, after a few years. Now, Roohi had turned 4 and she learned about her spiritual gifts from Shaista, who was now unable to walk, as she had severe rheumatoid arthritis, although she was only 55.
Shaista taught Roohi how to hypnotise and heal others. Little did she know, her aunt had cast a spell on her. She had the power to lift the burden of any man who would touch her, but the spell would be broken if she sees herself in the mirror.
Soon, Roohi’s aunt and only relative, passed away and she created her own world, to survive in the brothel. If any man tried to touch her, he would be intoxicated with Divine Grace and become a true believer. She was not aware of this secret power. Her aunt knew she would need it, as the world is full of bastards and she needed protection, when she wasn’t around.
When Roohi turned 14, she was told that it was time to begin her new life. The women at the brothel had already prepared her for this role and she was curiously waiting for this moment. She had never talked to a man, as anyone who tried to come near her would become enchanted and would never be seen again. Soon, she mastered the craft of pleasing men.
Reza, the secret admirer, could sense that something was different about her. He had seen men coming out of the brothel, laughing, crying or screaming, “Hallelujah!” Even a virgin like him knew that prostitutes can’t satisfy men like that. He had only seen men getting blisters on their faces but never going straight to the Church.
Roohi saw every client as God, and treated the ritual as sacred. Men were mesmerised by her mystical presence, and showered her with money, but none of that satisfied her. Her purity allowed her to give herself freely to those hungry souls. She felt their pain and wanted to liberate them from their misery, and so she did, unknowingly.
She had the gift of making the erotic fantasies of men come true, but her soul remained a virgin. She felt a vacuum within her being but didn’t know what it actually was.
There was a rumor spreading in the town, that there was a witch living in the brothel and performed black magic on men. Nobody knew where that news came from, but some of Roohi’s friends knew who they were talking about.
One day, Reza took the courage to visit his unrequited love. He entered the brothel, asking about her, nervously. Everyone pointed upstairs. She had a separate room, and would hardly go out. He politely knocked on the door, but there was no response. He peeked, and saw Roohi changing, with one perky breast revealed. His heart began throbbing so fast, he thought he was going to die, and entered the room in panic.
Roohi screamed with terror, “Who are you, boy?”, covering her delicate body.
Reza cleared his throat and said, “I.. uhh.. live across the street, you don’t know me, mam.”
She could sense that he was harmless, and felt a strange feeling in her stomach. It continued for a few minutes. She pointed towards the bed to distract herself from the rumbling in her belly.
Reza sat down quietly. He had never been intimate with a woman. Roohi was not only quite older than him, she was also his life.
“Are you here to sit on the bed?”, She asked sarcastically. Men would usually begin foreplay before laying on the bed, in the few minutes he had wasted, worrying about his feelings, as well as his prominent erection. Roohi smiled, looking away, as if she did not notice anything. Of course, she was oblivious about herself, as well as, the man whom she was about to make love with.
She knew he would take a lifetime to undress, so she made his task easier and began pulling his trousers. He giggled like a child, with a deep blush on his face.
Reza removed the rest of his clothes and kept sitting, covering his crotch. Her hunches were usually true, and this time, she knew he was a virgin.
Roohi removed the dupatta (scarf) she was covering her breasts with, and took off her patiala shalwar and threw it on the side, while Reza’s erection grew with guilt. She looked deep into his soul, by taking a glance at his eyes, and stroked him gently. He was well endowed for his small stature, but what attracted him was his child like vibration. She was trying to read him, while helping him release his tension.
Reza closed his eyes and fell in the pool of his dreams. He subtly moaned, and went in a deep trance. His traumatising childhood flashed before her eyes. He was born an orphan, just like her. His foster parents, would abuse him by making him work, and he would never get a chance to play with the kids in the neighbourhood. One day, he ran away and came to this town, leaving everything behind. He met a kind man, who gave him a job. He was only 10 years old.
Roohi tried going deeper, but suddenly, Reza woke up, sweating like a pig. She had never felt so connected to anyone before. She couldn’t help herself and hugged him and tears flowed endlessly down her face. Reza could not understand what was going on, but he too, felt something pulling him closer to her, as if he had met his other half. The moment he had this epiphany, she stared at him with shock.
They kissed so passionately, that they forgot who and where they were. Reza held her high and entered her being. Roohi felt whole, and could hear the sounds of bells, and Saints and angels cheering and celebrating their union in heaven.
Their fingers were locked and so were their lips. He squeezed his entire manhood in her, leaving her stunned. As the orgasm reached her head, her spirit took off in ascension. In that rare moment of delirium, she looked at the crystal clear eyes of Reza, and saw her face reflected back at her. She felt as if she was looking at a stranger.
In a fraction of a second, Roohi felt a burden being lifted from her body and she felt as if she was everywhere. Reza was now a devotee of Allah, and she was his.
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