Unmasked and ExposedbyLaRascasse©
Something new happened since that day. My garden of dreams had an additional constellation in the inky black sky -- a pair of kind eyes.
The night air in Cedar Avenue was bitterly cold. A thick cloud covered the sky blocking out any starlight. The few dim street lights cast a shadow against the walls. I gasped and stumbled, walking unsteadily. There was an excruciating burn around my orifice and I think a bit of blood might have seeped onto the fabric.
I took a small break to catch my breath. I leaned against the wall, supporting myself on the uneven surface. The burning feeling was not as acute as before, but still required me to raise my backside off the wall. I shut my eyes and tried to visualize the last hour or so.
Marcus' newest client was a true sadist. He was an amateur "handballer" and wanted to try his technique on me. There was a glint in his eye when he was told that I had no safe word. No one even bothered tying me up. Marcus held me down and the sadist got started. My underwear was stuffed in my mouth was an improvised gag.
I tried using my blotter to go off into my own world, but something was different this time. The pain was so intense, that my garden seemed distorted. It was no longer as I wanted it. The sky was burning red. The trees had wilted and died and the lake frothed.
There was this nameless dread in the air. I could feel the eerie foreboding of a powerful entity lurking in the darkness. I looked back and saw a red mist forming over the horizon. It grew towards me. The grass it passed over burnt. My feet were frozen to the ground. It grew nearer. It converted a tree to ashes, then another.
Sweat trickled down my face. It was even closer now and I remained paralysed with shock. This being of fire was coming for me. It had almost reached me when I got feeling back into my legs. I scrambled in the opposite direction, getting as far away from it as I could.
The heat was even more intense now. My garden was incinerating. It chased me across the grass. I did not stop to look back, the heat was close to me. The hair on my back was singed from the heat the red miasma radiated. I ran faster only to stumble and fall.
I turned my neck just in time to see the scarlet fog engulf me.
The heat was intense. I flailed in it, suspended inside the mist. It felt as if my body was on fire, burning from the inside out. The pain exploded through my skin before it concentrated. Now it was one scalding ball of anguish. It kept going south until it settled around my nether regions. The agonizing feeling would not go away.
I closed my eyes and screamed. When I opened them, I was not in my newly found hell any longer. I was held face down on an old bed by Marcus while a fist was firmly lodged in my rectum. The only thing that carried over from my fantasy was the smouldering pain entrenched on my rear end.
I began hyperventilating. In a sudden paroxysm, I pushed upwards shifting Marcus off me. The fist was still in me and the fister seemed surprised by my sudden rising. I desperately got off his hand and pulled up my pants. The pain was unbearable but my urge to get as far away as possible proved much stronger. The adrenaline coursing through me had temporarily taken the edge off the pain, allowing me enough freedom to sprint.
I ran out into the night air and kept running. The street was almost deserted. I did know where I was going to, but I knew what I was running from. The adrenaline rush slowly wore off, leaving a numbing pain behind. My pace slowed to a limp and I paused to catch my breath.
I began running aimlessly again. My brain was reeling under the weight of my thoughts. The road was metaphorical. I was all alone. I was running from something I feared towards something I did not know. A few streetlights could be seen. I staggered onto the expressway, the pain refusing to subside.
There were very few houses around. Most of the buildings were dark and desolate. I panted, fatigued at my dash for freedom. A white wisp came out of my mouth and faded into the dark nothingness. Black defeated white. Darkness defeated light.
I looked up from the edge of the expressway to see two glowing orbs over the horizon. Powerful beams of light came out and whitened the street. A large truck was making a late night delivery. As I heard the rumbling of it hurtling closer, I had an epiphany.
I was tired of running. I was tired of putting up a brave face for the world. I was tired of being a piñata for everyone. I was just simply tired.
Taking a deep breath of the cold air, I stepped out onto the road. The light was blinding. I could not see anything else. The truck honked loudly, but I was in no mood to move. He hit the brakes with a screeching sound but the momentum of it would do the rest.
The light was even brighter now. I did not brace for impact. A head on collision would likely hurt only for a fleeting instant.
The light was so bright that I had to close my eyes. That was when I felt a force pulling me. It gripped my arm and yanked me back to the pavement just as the truck thundered past.
I looked at the shadowy silhouette in dismay, almost anger. Providentially, a car came by and cast a light on the face and once more, I saw those kind eyes.
"Who are you?" I whispered into the darkness.
Somehow, I already knew that even before he had said it out loud.
Two rooms. Strictly Spartan. Bare necessities only, in the heart of the Bronx.
That was all that Angel had... and a big heart. The last one was what endeared him the most. That was all I ever asked for.
For the whole of the first day, I did not move off the bed. My body was still convalescing from the abuse I had taken. The pain had subsided, leaving an aching numbness around my groin and butt crease. It felt as if those nerve endings had all gone dead.
"Here," he said kindly. "Take this."
I opened my eyes to see him pushing a steaming bowl in my direction. It did not smell particularly good, but I was too famished to care. I scooped up a spoonful of the stew and ate it. It did not taste quite as bad as I feared.
"Eat it. Get some strength back in that fragile body," Angel said, patting my shoulder.
I had so many questions I wanted to ask him, I did not know where to start. Who was he? Why did he save me? He seemed to telepathically read my thoughts.
"I'm just as confused as you are, friend. One moment I'm walking back home from a hard night's work, the next I see a familiar face in the path of a truck. The rest of what happened was a blur."
That was one question down. He continued.
"When I saw your face, I can't explain the feeling. Your picture was calling out to me from my computer screen. I was instantly attracted. It was like I had found my soul mate. So, I started saving. I had to meet you."
He paused before resuming.
"I spent months saving, living like this, to have enough to see you once up close."
None of it made sense. I asked him softly. "Why?"
He put the palm of his hand against my face gently before asking me, "Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are?"
"You are. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
I forced myself to believe it. I heard it for the first time. It felt strange. Strange, but true.
I put the steaming bowl down and looked straight into those beautiful eyes. His palm came to the back of my head and he ran his fingers through my pale hair. His lips were mere inches from mine. I could make out every crease.
His lips pushed against mine, his tongue parting my lips and meeting mine in a wet slosh of saliva. He pushed my head forwards, making his tongue go even deeper into mouth. It was slow. His tongue explored my mouth intimately, loving each part of it.
I moaned hotly in his mouth. Our lips remained locked and his hand slid into my pants grasping my hardening tool. Angel curled his index finger around the shaft and held it in place with his thumb. Keeping the grip with these two fingers, he slowly peeled back the foreskin.
"I love you, Leslie. I loved you the instant I saw you."
Most of these words were lost in a torrid duet between our tongues. Yet, I could feel each syllable resonate deep inside me. I wrapped my hand around his back, clutching him to my chest. I wanted to make sure he was real.
His fingers caressed my pulsing member gently, making me harder. He pulled back from the kiss to let me remove my shirt. Angel's lips returned, now to my nipples. The sensations were electric. A surge of sensuality gripped us. He alternated between the nipples, grazing his teeth over the ends.
The action of his mouth, coupled with his slow jerking motion was overwhelming my senses. I closed my eyes, losing myself in the abyss of pleasure. He seemed to feed off my pleasure and that pleased him.
I do not know what love is, honestly. But that experience would probably come close.
"Let me take care of you," he said, pushing his lips further down my torso. His lips pulled at my erogenous zones, causing them to tingle. He kissed the head of my cock. Then he kissed down the shaft, holding it parallel to his lips.
Angel's lips continued teasing my cock. He peeled back the foreskin with his fingers and slurped around the mushroom ridge. I parted my legs some more, inviting him. He smiled up at me from between my thighs and his twinkled.
With the palm of one hand, he pushed my organ against my stomach. His lips dipped lower and he took one of my balls into his mouth. He held it between his lips while his tongue laved at it, covering it with a layer of saliva. He switched to the other one and repeated the motion. His lips then returned to my shaft, moving to the tip in one continuous lick.
I was dimly aware of my surroundings, my senses focused on the incredible pleasure. The mouth left my cock and my eyes snapped open. He lay flat on the bed, turning his head to grin in my direction. His hip was propped on a pillow, his cheeks invitingly parted.
"For you, love."
Instinctively, I leaned over and kissed his puckered rosebud. Sticking out my tongue, I lapped around the hole gently. He groaned into the bed. Encouraged, I parted his round cheeks and pressed my face into the opening.
"Oh yeah! Fuck!" he panted into the bedsheets.
My tongue made slow arcs from the top of his crack all the way to his balls and back. I repeated the motion, swirling against the hole, making him squirm with pleasure. His hips rocked from side to side, but my face followed their movement, keeping my tongue in place.
My body had still not recovered full feeling, but I forced my hips over his. My penis gently prodded at his backdoor. I pressed forward, letting some part of my pale hardness penetrate his rim. His tight walls clenched me. A wave of heat swept my core.
"Please. Push it in," he entreated.
I pushed in, fitting snugly within his tight walls. The feeling of his sphincter squeezing around me had me dizzy with pleasure. A wave of heat washed against my core, causing my heart to race. I had left behind the angst and hatred of my previous encounters.
Every thrust heightened by pleasure by an order of magnitude. My eyes shut an my jaw clenched. It was as if I knew exactly what to do, exactly what he needed. I seemed to know him metaphysically in the same way he seemed to know me.
I did not need my garden. This vortex of sensual pleasure catapulted me into a totally different realm. I moved, gyrating my hips against Angel's. He moaned and gripped his bedsheets. I took it slow, not wanting this pleasure to end.
A deep stirring emanated from within me. It coursed through my being, causing me to spasm against his ass and climax. His rectum kept it's vice grip as I ejected spurts of semen inside him, painting him with my love.
Do you believe in Fate? I do. For it was Fate that put me through all those trials and tribulations so I could meet him.
We did not need masks. Angel and I could look deep into each other's souls without shying away. He was Angel. My angel.
Over time, Angel opened up to me about himself. His devout Christian family had roundly rejected him when he came out. Before he knew it, he was on the street with a suitcase and his favourite guitar. It took him a long while to come from Miami to New York, where he took a job at a nightclub. The Chandelier Room, where he saw me for the first time.
"I saw you being led away to the back. Rumours helped me piece together the rest of the puzzle," he said.
"That night, I scoured the most secret gay forums for your face. It took me some effort, but I found it. I found you, Leslie."
Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of breaking glass. I hurried to the adjacent room to see the window broken and a rock lying on the floor. It had a piece of paper tied to it. Curiously, I opened it.
"So you've been introduced to our neighbours."
The paper had a clear message.
GAYS ARE GOING TO HELL
"They call themselves 'The Redeemers'," said Angel calmly. "Self styled neo-nazis. Think of them as a cross between the KKK and your run-of-the-mill anti-gay groups."
I put the rock down and started wiping the shards of glass off the floor. Angel helped me with some of them.
"They're not all that dangerous here," he continued. "Redeemer hate-crimes are concentrated mainly in Brooklyn. They airspray the swastika wherever they go. Haven't seen one in these parts yet."
A few nights later, I went to The Chandelier Room with Angel. One of the regular servers was sick and he got me in on short notice. It was nice to be near the front of the house for a change. I was bringing a couple their Chardonnay when the curtains moved apart. Angel stood with his hands on his guitar.
All eyes turned towards his tanned face and his black curls. The applause told me he was popular. He began playing, his fingers moving across the fret with dexterity. I watched in awe. He sang with a distinctive Cuban influence in his tunes and lyrics.
Soon, the whole room was buzzing with his soulful melody. People closed their eyes to focus on the music. He held his guitar like he was waltzing with it and plucked at the strings lovingly. Some necks and hands swayed in rhythm with his symphony. Anyone who looked at his slender frame and delicate fingers would not believe him to be capable of force.
People stayed back after their meals were finished. The captivating music would not let them leave.
"And now for my encore, I would like to sing of love. Love which should not be denied, but accepted by all. Love which no one should hide," he said. "I dedicate this song to my love, who is in this room."
I stood at rapt attention. My ears were still reeling from what he said. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt it was true, but he said it out loud. He said it in public. Angel's gaze slowly scanned the room and came to a stop on me.
There were no words to his encore, but it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. The tempo started slow, like glowing embers. Each successive octave struck a higher note than the last. He was making love to me with his music, strumming faster and faster.
Words were not only unnecessary but seemed banal. The euphony of his strings caressed my skin. Words would have fallen dreadfully short to convey the amazing feeling that his music did so eloquently.
The crescendo approached, rising higher on the crest of his music. The room collectively held their breath for the final peak of his tune. My senses had all dissolved except my hearing. The crescendo hit me like a tsunami. A collective gasp told me it had a similar effect on the others too.
"And now, I would request my love to come on stage."
My eyes opened and I saw him looking straight at me. His arm was outstretched invitingly. The eyes of the room followed my every step. I got on the stage and could not control the impulse to stroke his cheek.
Angel smiled and kissed me, gently at first, but his tongue soon engaged mine in a torrid dance. He eventually pulled back and returned his gaze to the crowd. I too looked on, slightly fearful. Then, something happened that I could scarcely dream of.
First there was one clap. Then two. Somebody near the front rose and clapped. Even more people followed suit. Men, women, children of every caste and race stood and applauded. Our love was celebrated, not shunned. It felt surreal.
For once, I was unmasked publicly... and I liked it.
My mind was in this fog of happiness while we made our way back to the Bronx. A few blocks short of his building, I stopped dead in my tracks. A woman ran screaming out of a deserted looking alley. She had a manic look on her face, clearly terrified of what she had seen.
Angel eyed me warily. Clutching each other tightly, we made our way inside the alley. It was the back wall of an industrial unit. At the end of it was a small turn to a dead end. We came to a dreadful halt when we saw what had happened.
There was a young woman, hardly twenty. Her limbs had been crucified to the wall with crude nails drilled right through the bone. A copious quantity of blood had pooled around her feet and her head was tilted to the side.
The truly scary part was the "LESBIAN WHORE" carved into her stomach. One on side of this macabre tableaux was emblazoned a large black swastika and on the other a small epithet.
Redeeming the world.
One sinner at a time.
The Redeemers had well and truly made their presence felt in the Bronx. It was not a safe place to be in any longer.
It is surprising how adversity brings out a side of you you had never been aware of before. I did not even think of myself. My thoughts were entirely on protecting Angel from this new threat. My mind flew back to my abuse riddled days with Marcus. He had one client who stood out from the rest and inspired a brutal fear in all who came in contact with him. I had only seen his subordinates, but I knew how to get in touch with him.
The method was simple. I had to post an ad on eBay "selling myself". He had people who kept an eye out for those ads and swooped in with a substantial one time payment. There were rumours of young boys who had sold themselves to feed their families and more.
Even as we trembled back to his apartment, I was firm in my resolve. Money could never truly repay love, but I had no other choice.
My angel came first. He always would.
So that is where the lore ends. I did not have the stomach to face Angel before leaving, so I left the money in a bag for him and left. Master arranged for me to be brought to his manor and I have lived here since.
The outside world may be unaware of me now, but I am aware of all that I need to know.
A putrefying stench alerted the neighbours that something was amiss in Brighton Beach. My father had a heart attack and lay dead in his own wastes for a week before the smell of decomposition bothered someone. His last conscious act was breaking the television when the Jets lost.
Shane Moskowitz went to college on a wrestling scholarship. His reputation grew to the point where he was being considered for the team to the London Olympics. That dream came to a crashing halt when he was found in his locker room with his coach practising a manoeuvre which was too lurid to be covered by any standard coaching manual.
His buddy Dustin Roth broke his ankle in a freak accident just as his career in the NFL was about to take off. Instead, he settled for a job as an academy coach for the Giants. His career came to an unsavoury end when a surprise drug test caught out all his rookies.
Mr Bruce Hendricks had grossly underestimated the reach and tenacity of some of his less-reputable creditors. I found out he had moved to Wilmington and lived there under a new identity until his past caught up with him. You could not but sympathise with the poor couple who were out fishing in the Delaware when they caught him in their net. Parts of him at least.