Arab Femdom in Saudi Arabia

My name is Karim Abdullah Musawir. I am a proud son of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. I'd like to tell you how I transformed my bitchy bossy Marie Claire Tremblay, a proud French-Canadian woman and feminist icon into my own personal fuck slut. You see, North American men and European men are always wondering how Muslim men from North Africa have managed to keep our women under control for so long. Gentlemen, read on as I explain to you the secret of our success. Keep in mind that all women are alike, and to break them down and control them the same methodology applies everywhere. In this time and throughout time.

I came to the Confederation of Canada at the behest of my King. The old buzzard offered to fund international scholarships for young men selected from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia's top families. I was fortunate enough to have been chosen. Thus, I found myself living in the City of Montreal, Province of Quebec. The elders of my clan warned me about life in North America. Still, nothing could have prepared me for this. A world that's literally upside down from the viewpoint of a Saudi male such as myself. Women walk around nearly naked in the continent of North America. Also, they act as if they're masters of the world and the men of the western world cower at their feed. What a load of crap. In the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, the world makes sense. Men run things, and women stay in their little corner where they belong. Unfortunately, the men of North America, Europe, Australia and New Zealand are sissies. They've been infected by the malady of feminism. They actually believe the nonsense about gender equality being touted at colleges and universities as well as courtrooms across the land. Such madness! If Allah wanted woman to rule, He would have given her a penis!

I enrolled at Concordia University in the City of Montreal, the most beautiful place in the entire Province of Quebec. Watching women walking around without burkas was kind of distracting for me during the first few months. I also saw some disturbing things. I watched a woman smack her husband during a heated argument inside a restaurant in Montreal-Nord. Wow. If a woman did this in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, her husband would be fully within his rights to physically correct her for her insolence. Sometimes I wonder how come North American and European men don't revolt en masse against the tyranny of women. I knew I would see madness in the world of the Infidels but it exceeded my wildest expectations. Wow. I resolved to earn my degree from Concordia University and return home where the world made sense. Unfortunately, Allah had other plans for me. He put Marie Claire Tremblay on my path. An obstacle, if you will. However, it is my firm belief that Allah never gives man any challenge he cannot handle. Thus, I resolved to handle Marie Claire Tremblay.

Women in the western world are the most spoiled bitches on the planet. They are extremely lazy. They are also such sluts it's not even funny. The men of the western world give them money, power and influence. Yet that's not enough for them. That's never enough. I silently laugh at the plight of western men. They have forgotten that bit of wisdom passed along since the days of cavemen. Women are emotional creatures. Logic is simply beyond them. Letting them be in charge is foolish. Like giving a loaded gun to a monkey. Of course, I kept such opinions to myself. I focused on my business administration courses at the University of Concordia. Three years went by, and I was one semester from graduating when my advisor told me that I needed a special internship in order to meet all of my graduation requirements. Otherwise I wouldn't graduate. Well, that was unexpected but I'm the sort of man who believes in meeting life's challenges. Thus, I went to the campus business office, and applied for an internship. I ended up at the Bank of Montreal, under the direct supervision of a thirty-year-old white bitch named Marie Claire Tremblay.

According to the standards of the western world, Marie Claire Tremblay is a beautiful woman. Standing five feet eleven inches tall, lean and athletic, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Marie Claire Tremblay was what's considered a Pure Laine, as old-school Quebecers called themselves. Her family has been living in Canada since part of it was called New France. We're talking about centuries here, folks. The Tremblay name carries a lot of power in the Province of Quebec. Marie Claire Tremblay is the daughter of Jean-Richard Tremblay, a Captain with La Surete Du Quebec, as the Quebec provincial police is called. Her mother Beatrice D'Avignon Tremblay hails from the City of Marseille in the Republic of France. She's a former supermodel turned internationally famous actress. She's done movies in France, Canada, the United States of America and the United Kingdom.

Yeah, Marie Claire Tremblay considers herself Quebec royalty because her parents are wealthy and powerful. The problem for her is that I am a proud Muslim male from the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Where I come from, we believe that women should be seen and not heard. Any woman caught walking the streets without a Burka on or without a male relative as companion will be punished. Any woman caught driving will be arrested. So believe me when I tell you that the arrogant and bitchy women of North America, Europe, Australia and New Zealand don't impress me much. All bitches are the same. And we in Saudi Arabia know how to handle them. Trust me on that one. We sipped the machismo juice down there and avoid the bottle of poison that is western feminism. Marie Claire Tremblay holds an MBA from McGill University but the best job she could get was as an account manager for the Bank of Montreal. Sounds like a gross misuse of both education and money if you ask me. I decided to show this bitch that yes, her shit did stink.

I pointedly refused her handshake when we met. She was shocked by this. I told her that I was a Muslim and that in Islam, we believe that unrelated men and women shouldn't touch. Marie Claire was stunned by this. I shrugged and told her that the world was bigger than Canada. I could tell the bitch wasn't used to being talked to this way. Well, she hadn't seen anything yet. Whenever I had a question, I went to her male assistant rather than her. I also made a point of talking to the hijab-wearing Somali ladies at the office rather than her. I speak the Somali language, and I was polite and friendly to those ladies. I ignored Marie Claire, and thus I began to fascinate her. Tall, blonde and blue-eyed women are used to getting male attention everywhere they go. Well, I ignored Marie Claire. In fact, whenever I spoke to her, I tried to look annoyed. Or bored. I always kept our conversations short, to the point and cold. In time, she became obsessed with me. My plan worked like a charm.

Marie Claire Tremblay set out to seduce me. As if I could be seduced by the likes of her. However, I reeled her in. Here's how she approached me. She told me she was curious about Islam. And I decided to teach her. I explained the basic tenets of my religion to her. I told her that Islam was all about submission. She laughed and told me that as a feminist woman living in Canada, she wasn't supposed to be submissive. I rolled my eyes and told her that in Islam, men and women are considered equal before the Might of Allah. Males and females are supposed to surrender their bodies and minds, their very souls to Allah, the Most High. Anything less was a sign of being an unbeliever. And no infidels or unbelievers would be allowed entry into the Kingdom of Heaven when Allah at last called all men and women into His Presence. I could tell Marie Claire Tremblay was fascinated. Just like a fly in the spider's web. I reeled her in, and she fell for it.

Now, it's simply impossible to transform a feminist woman of Caucasian descent raised in North America into a proper Muslim woman who submits to both Allah and male authority overnight. There's a lot of debunking involved. Fortunately, I had time. I invested time in Marie Claire Tremblay. I took her to her first Mosque. I pretended to be surprised when she asked me to give her a copy of the Koran. Imagine the look on her white female friends faces when she showed up at the Bank of Montreal office wearing a hijab. I looked at her and smiled. Then I told her she was beautiful. Marie Claire Tremblay blushed so much I thought she was going to pass out. When Ramadan came, we fasted together. I also went food shopping with her and explained to her the difference between Halal foods and Haram foods. Bread for example is Halal, as in permissible to eat. Swine is Haram, forbidden to eat if you're a proper Muslim. Marie Claire Tremblay accepted that, and changed both her diet and her lifestyle. I was amazed at the changes in her. Soon she was a regular sight at the Mosque.

I was making a lot of progress with her. Everything was going according to my design. And one day, Marie Claire Tremblay told me that I showed her the true face of Islam and that it was nothing to fear. Enthusiastically she hugged me. I hugged her gently, then reminded her that unrelated men and women weren't supposed to touch according to the rules of Islam. Marie Claire excused herself. Then she told me she loved me. I pretended to be surprised, then told her I was in love with her. She beamed at me and grinned. Once again she embraced me, and I gently reproached her. I also told her that I couldn't be with a woman who wasn't Muslim. My father would kill me or strip me of my worldly possessions. I looked sad while saying this. With a look of pure unadulterated love in her eyes, Marie Claire promised me that I wouldn't lose everything simply for loving her. I asked her what she meant by that. The tall, blonde-haired and blue-eyed French-Canadian woman told me she would convert to Islam. I smiled and shared a passionate hug with her. Game, set and match!

Thus, Marie Claire Tremblay converted to Islam and we were married in a proper Mosque. Henceforth, she wore the hijab. By marrying her, I gained access to her family's millions and I also gained my Canadian citizenship. A year after our marriage, Marie Claire wore the burka for the first time. And she didn't find it stifling or an affront to her womanhood. She found it wonderfully empowering. She was even becoming fairly fluent in Arabic. Imagine that! I took her to Saudi Arabia to meet my parents. I hail from the City of Buraidah in the Al Qassim Province of Saudi Arabia. As is the custom in Saudi Arabia, Marie Claire wore the burka as we travelled through Saudi Arabia. Soon we were in my father's palace. I introduced her to my father Abdul-Warith Musawir and my mother Dhuha. They were absolutely thrilled to meet her.

My father congratulated me on transforming one of the blue-eyed and blonde-haired, white-skinned she-devils of the western world into a prim and proper, burka-wearing Muslim woman. As we sat at dinner to eat as a family, my father really laid it thick. He's got a lot of negative views of the west. And he doesn't think much of western women. I could tell he was getting to Marie Claire Tremblay. And I was curious to see how she would take it. Would she lash out as a western woman would? Or take it in stride as any Muslim woman would? Hmm. Finally, my father pushed it too far when he compared western women to maddened she-goats. Marie Claire rose and told him to shut his mouth. My mother and I gasped in shock. My father stared at her indignantly and told me to keep my woman in line. This I did gladly. I had been waiting anxiously for two years to drop the mask. I finally did, in the one place on the planet Earth where I could get away with it with absolutely on consequences.

I pulled the hood of the burka from Marie Claire Tremblay's face. I looked deep into her beautiful blue eyes and sneered. Then I smacked her hard across the face. My father and mother nodded with satisfaction. Marie stared at me, shocked. I smiled wickedly, then escorted her out of the dining room. I brought her back to our apartments. Then I explained her new situation to her. Her problem is that she doesn't realize that she's left the continent of North America behind. She's in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia now. A place where women can't drive legally, and have only recently been told they can vote. For all the good it will do to them. In front of Marie Claire's amazed eyes, I ripped her Canadian passport. Then I told her that as the wife of a Saudi Arabian nobleman, she was considered the property of her husband. My property.

The stunned look of pure betrayal on her beautiful face was absolute nectar to me. Finally, she realized the truth. I wish I could have filmed that moment so I could relieve it over and over again. Marie Claire slowly recovered from the shock she felt. Defiantly, she called me a dirty Arab scumbag and told me I would never get away with what I've done. I laughed, and dared her to go back to the Canadian Embassy of Saudi Arabia. And when she did, she found out that as a dual citizen of Saudi Arabia and Canada, she was subject to Saudi law. She couldn't return to Canada without the expressed permission of her Saudi husband. Me. And I would never grant it. Finally, I looked into Marie Claire's eyes and saw defeat. She walked out of the Canadian Embassy wearing a Burka with her head down. Just like any woman in Saudi Arabia. I've won.