Celebrating East African Writing!


Written by Susan Karimi


Momanyi always woke up with a startle and vigor for the new day. He loved his work. But no! Wait a minute. Was it the work or his beautiful madam? He always couldn’t understand it himself. The thought of madam always caused him arousal. It reminded him of the days when he was starting to mature into puberty. The thought of Naliaka when they were young, always made him have serious wet dreams that his brother, who still too young to understand would tease him about. Naliaka was his childhood dream girl. She had suddenly become so beautiful; she wasn’t like that when they were growing up. She suddenly had this beautiful pops on her chest that always made his manhood strain to get out of his pants whenever he happened to look at them. She suddenly had this round curves that looked like she woke up to stuff some cushions in some shorts inside her skirts just to punish him!


For a long time he had believed they were some cushion stuffing till some time during some games time, when he had happened to sit next to her and he had felt their softness. Oh how he had longed he could always sit next to her and just look down her chest and feel the softness of those hippy curves. On the day he got to know that it was not cushion stuffing but actually her flesh, he could not help but rush to the boys room as his manhood completely refused to obey his command to come down. She had fallen as she tried to shoot the ball into the net during some netball competitions, and her wrapper had gone up, revealing her thighs and that was when he realized there was no stuffing but her flesh.


“Momanyi, Momanyi, where are you? What is happening!” came the shouting of his madam, interfering with his warm remembrance of his childhood.


“Momanyi! Momanyi!” The shouting continued! Her voice was so sweet; he loved the sound of his name on her lips. He could let her go on and on. She was his adulthood fantasy. But she belonged to someone else. Just like Naliaka belonged to her books and her games. They both had other people and things that mattered to them and he was just another person in their lives.


“Momanyi, Momanyi!” Came the shouting again. This time she was heavily banging on his



“Yes Madam!” He replied, faking a sleepy mood.


“What is wrong with you today? Its 7am in the morning and the cows are yet to be milked. Are you OK?”


“What? It is already seven in the morning?” This time he was surprised for real. He had not realized his fantasies had lasted this long. “Sorry Madam, am coming right away”, he said as he dashed to open the door.


“What!!!” He shrieked in a muffled voice, as he opened his door to find his madam standing there in her night dress. It’s like he had just bumped into an angel. She looked more beautiful than ever before. Is this what boss always has to himself every night! He felt his brains go down to the areas below.


“No please don’t disappoint me. This is my boss man! This is not Naliaka!” He tried to tell his little master, who wouldn’t listen. He had experienced such occasions before just looking at her, but she was always a distance away and not standing just in front of her. “She will see my manhood misbehave. I have to turn around before she notices”, he thought to himself, but it was like he was fixed to the ground. He couldn’t move.

“Momanyi, what is wrong with you today? I asked you, are you alright?”


“No, yes, yes, No, yes, I don’t know”. He found the words had already come out of his mouth.


“Damn! Now she is going to fire me,” he thought to himself. She just stood there looking at him wondering what on earth had gone wrong with him. He doesn’t behave like this and she concluded he must be getting down with some ailment or the fatigue of the work was catching up with him as he was such a hard worker who seemed to love his job. They all loved him as he never complained nor do his work halfheartedly. “Momanyi, go back in and rest. I think you are not too well today. I will ask Truphosa to look after the cows”.


“No wait, am not unwell, it’s just you, can’t you see”? He wanted to say, but the words failed him. Oh! why were these women sent to punish him? He cursed his ancestors. By now he was as hard as a rock, but thank God, her eyes stayed fixed to his, as she tried to figure out what could be wrong with him. If she happened to look down, he will be fired for sure he thought to himself and as quickly as he could, he thanked her for understanding and promised to get down to what he was to do as quickly as he could feel better.


She turned to leave and he stood there watching her and not understanding why his master was never satisfied with what he had in her. With a beauty like madam sleeping under his sheets every day, he would never as much as look at another woman in his life he said to himself. But that was not the case with his master. He had way too many women that he was dating and he was sure he was sleeping with all of them too. He remembered when master once came home with this woman, whom he later heard master introduce as the head of a certain department where he worked to madam, when she happened to come back home earlier than he had anticipated. It was by sheer luck that she walked in as they had just entered the sitting room to have some wine after having had their rendezvous in the bedroom a while earlier.


Master thinks it is his well kept secret, but Momanyi wished master knew there was never a secret in this world. The woman had been screaming, and crying and he had wondered what was going on in the bedroom as he was sure that could not have been madam. Madam was modest and other than the sweet mourning sounds she made during their lovemaking with master, sounds that he loved to listen to when he lived in the main house as their house servant before he was ‘promoted’, he knew this could not be madam. He had therefore drawn closer and found a little space between the drawn window curtains where he had peered to see what was happening, just to see master being rocked like a horse and the woman making so much noise. Master seemed to have been enjoying but Momanyi knew as for him, he never could enjoy such. He knew what he needed was madam. But she was loyal to master and she belonged to him.


“Damn!” he found himself sigh as he locked the door. It was now 7:30 and he had been standing there for 30 minutes. “What is happening to me?” his thought to himself. Suddenly there was a knock on the door again. He rushed to open thinking it was madam who had returned and would be begging him to hold her.”


“Yes!” he said as he opened the door eagerly with a smile. It was not madam. It was Truphosa.


“Oh it is you?’ he asked.


“Who did you think it was?” Truphosa asked as she walked into his room. “I came to check on you as madam told me you were not feeling well. What is wrong? You don’t look sick to me. But oh my look! The bulge! What on earth were you thinking about?” Truphosa exclaimed.


Ah, Truphosa was so fast in noticing he said to himself. But of course she is not as modest as madam is and would not hesitate to notify him of his unbecoming little master’s fury.


“You” he replied. Truphosa had always been his substitute to madam. He could have her and imagine it was madam. Otherwise the feelings would kill him. “Me? How now? This early in the morning?” Truphosa asked. He drew closer to her and she could now feel the wetness in her loins as he touched her. He always did it so well that many are the times she wished he lived in the main house, as they could have it every night maybe, without having to worry of madam seeing her going to his room in the staff quarters.


He kissed her and imagined the succulence of madam’s lips. Truphosa could feel his urgency as he pressed on her and for a minute wondered how fast he must have reacted to her coming in to his room. He sure must love her she thought, and before she knew it, they were both heaving on his bed and she only sat up to look at him when he thanked her and called her madam!


©Susan Karimi 2011

If you would like this piece to be the Story of the Week, please vote below on a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being weak, and 10 being excellent. The numbers will be tallied on Sunday and the story with the highest figure shall be Crowned Story of the Week on the next Monday. Be sure to fill in your name and verifiable email. You can include your critique/comment after the vote.



One comment on “Madam

  1. Gitura Kihuria
    January 25, 2011

    I liked every bit of it.

    It was hilarious and you brought out very vividly what goes through jamas heads( and below their waist) when they are lustful and infatuated.

    I’m more impressed that it was written by a lady and guys couldn’t have written better than Susan did.

    I vote 9.


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