Authors: Arden Aoide
“Hello, Daniel.
How are you this fine evening? It's a little warm, but there's a nice breeze
coming through here.” James was aware of his charisma, even while sitting in
the dark on a dusty sofa. He wanted to watch it undo Daniel. As weak as that
boy was to his baser instincts.
He'd
unbuttoned his shirt, so that he could see how distracting he could be.
It
was just after nightfall, and David had just left for the evening. He and
Daniel's home was situated just behind the tree line, several acres from the
decrepit Victorian. David asked Daniel to spend some time fixing a room in the
nicer part of the house for a new guest. Daniel hadn't asked questions, but
knew it was for a female, and it made his stomach hurt wondering what Mr.
Agnesson had in store for her, especially if Raphe was gone. It didn't help his
nerves knowing he was still there unexpectedly. Daniel was surprised to see
him, and was caught off guard. “V-very well, Sir.”
“Good,
good.” James smiled, all teeth. “I've seen the boy. He
is
pretty. Looks
like a feral girl-child. I imagine he behaves as such.”
Daniel
just nodded, unsure what to say. He'd never thought of Raphe looking like a
girl. Probably because he saw his cock fairly soon after picking him up. “It
was rough going the first few days, but he's settled in. Even told me he would
have taken the job had I just asked.”
James
laughed. “Well, from where you found him, I don't doubt that one bit.”
Daniel
was curious. Mr. Agnesson being here and not at the main house at this
particular hour was confusing. “Is there something I can...uh...help you with?”
James
licked his bottom lip slowly and shuttered his gaze. “Possibly. I've not had
time recently to have my needs tended to, so I thought that since I was coming
to touch base with your father, I would see if you had any females on for
today.”
“This
‒
”
isn't a whorehouse.
He
knew he would need to watch his mouth. His father would be very angry if he
fucked this up. “This isn't really a good day. We have a girl coming in a few
days, I think.” It was a lie, but he didn't know what to say.
“I'll
have to make do. The lad in there looks like he could give me a bit of relief
with his mouth, unless you have a better idea?” He spread his legs and ran his
thumb down his zip.
Daniel
was struck dumb. Surely Mr. Agnesson wasn't propositioning him. Was this
something that was done? Could his greatest shame be the norm among Texas men?
“I'm not very quick on the uptake, Sir.” Honesty was embarrassing sometimes.
James
laughed. He was growing impatient and found he didn't care for a seduction of a
simpleton. “It's not difficult, Daniel. Either you come here and give me your
mouth, or I'll go to the pretty one through the kitchen.”
There
was no way he was going to pass this up. He was going to make sure Mr. Agnesson
came back for more. The thought of being on his knees for Mr. Agnesson was the
stuff of wet dreams, and his marriage would be bearable. He was struck dumb by
the possibilities.
Daniel
hadn't answered him, and James wanted his mouth only, very specifically. “I
want
your
mouth, you stupid boy. But, if that's not something you want
to do for me, I'm certain I can convince the whore.” He tried to be friendly.
And while he was aiming for Daniel to fall eagerly to his knees, he was
irritated by his hesitation. He wasn't sure if it was stupidity or lack of
desire that made Daniel still stand.
“You
want my mouth, Sir?”
Stupid,
then. “Absolutely. Now, get over here. You don't want me to change my mind.”
Actually, the end result would be the same. James unbuttoned his worn jeans and
gripped his erection. He stroked slowly and waited.
It
was an unbelievable opportunity, and the man he'd thought about since he was a
young teen was giving him something he'd only recently admitted to wanting. Mr.
Agnesson.
James
. Wants
him.
Daniel convinced himself that James
had drove all the way from Agnes Oaks. Hours. Just for him. All thoughts of
Raphe and his future bride left him as he dropped to his knees and his mouth
filled with saliva.
The
smell of him. He thought he might pass out. He smelled amazing. Like nothing
Daniel could ever describe. Daniel buried his face into the hair of his pubis,
and inhaled before lifting his head.
He
sucked James' cock down to the root, and worked an inelegant rhythm, not aware
that technique might be important. And when James pressed his hands to the back
of his head, he disbelieved in sin.
James
quite liked it. Much more thorough and enthusiastic than any woman. But still
the most shameful thing. To eagerly suck cock like he was starving.
Embarrassing. He would enjoy this, though. And he would enjoy casting judgment.
He
sped up his thrusts, all while marveling at the way the boy's throat had
opened.
This
was the boy's choice. Daniel's decision. Fitting.
“Don't
swallow,” James spoke right before he filled Daniel's mouth. A part of him
wanted this to be violent, but this sort of passive evil pleased him. Always
had. “Lie on your back. But don't swallow. Not yet.”
Daniel
was confused, but he was up for whatever James wanted to do. He was obviously
more experienced. Though, he began to grown alarmed when James tucked himself
back in his jeans and straddled his chest.
His
smile was glorious, and his blond hair was haloed by the full moon. Like an
archangel.
Raphael
‒
Daniel
was immobile and realized his dilemma as soon as James simultaneously held his
nose and wrapped his hand tightly around his throat.
Oh,
how James loved his quick obedience. It was delicious. He considered for a
second a change of plans, but he couldn't trust Daniel to stay. And he didn't
know if Daniel knew the definition of discretion. “Daniel. Daniel. Daniel. I
watched you suck that whore off. I listened as you promised to take him home.
And the way you had sucked him, you were going to stay with him. And that was
never going to happen.” James gauged how much time he had left to speak, or
rather how long Daniel would be able to comprehend. Seconds. His mouth was
starting to open, but he hadn't the oxygen to spit. James' grip was tight.
“Take comfort that there is no god to judge you, so there is no Hell. There is
nothing.
That should bring you some comfort, in these last seconds.”
He
let go of Daniel's throat, and watched, smiling, as he inhaled James into his
lungs. He could pay attention fully to the light dimming in his confused and
betrayed eyes, yet his tears hadn't ceased.
Death
by aspiration was beautiful.
Her mama told her
there might be some unpleasant things her husband might want to do. Her mama
also told her she would just have to close her eyes and let him do it.
Her
mama didn't tell her she would like it.
Jude
wanted her all the time. Mostly he waited until they went to bed, but sometimes
he had her on the sofa, or over the kitchen table before dinner. He was very
vocal about his needs, so she was inclined to believe that everything they did
was normal.
She
had expected to be miserable, but when he comes in, dirty from the farm, he
looks at her as if she was a revelation. Like he still couldn't believe his
good fortune.
He
wanted her in unspeakable ways. She couldn't even think of the things he liked
her to do to his penis without her face nearly catching fire. She never found
it distasteful. At first, she was curious and it was interesting. She felt
powerful. Jude would fall apart in front of her, because of her, and in those
moments, she felt like she had control over the secrets of the universe, and
she wanted to spend her life wearing the key around her neck.
She
missed Jude lately. He was exhausted, but he was never too tired for her.
Lately, it had been quick and methodical, a sort of box to tick at the end of a
'to do' list. He'd been doing the work of five men, building a new barn, and
preparing the farm for cooler weather.
Her
mama had mentioned that as well. “Be glad on those days when he works long
hours, he'll most likely leave you alone.”
She
looked out the window to see if she could spot him, but it was already too
dark. She saw headlights from a truck driving up the worn path to their home.
She assumed it was Jude, but usually he let her know if he needed to go to
town.
She
watched him park close to the door, and she rushed to the front door, so she
could assist him.
As
soon as she opened the door, her stomach dropped. It was Mr. Agnesson, and the
look on his face alarmed her. “What is it?”
“I'm
so sorry, Clara. It's your mother. She's ill. She's been taken to Dallas. Pack
a quick bag. Come quickly,” he urged.
Clara
didn't a waste a second.
She
didn't question the note Mr. Agnesson placed on the kitchen table. She was sure
it was to let Jude know what was happening. She wished he would come home so
she could see him before she left.
Jude
was exhausted. He needed some help around the farm. Maybe he could talk Jared
into helping a bit more.
He
felt like he was neglecting his wife. He really needed to reconnect properly
with her.
It
was dark when he walked through the front door. The house smelled vaguely of
yeast, and he wondered why Clara didn't leave a light on if she was going to
bed early. He hoped she was feeling okay. He hoped she wasn't shutting him out
for working so much.
He
flicked on the kitchen light, and noticed the folded paper on their kitchen
table.
“Clara?”
She
didn't answer. He peeked inside their bedroom. Their bed was empty. Their
bathroom door was open and the light was off.
“Clara!”
She
didn't come.
Jude picked up the note.
“...we
end
The
heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That
flesh is heir to.”
–William
Shakespeare, Hamlet
There were men
fucking in the alley.
Men.
Fucking in the alley.
He
could
hear
it.
Josiah
stood stock-still, but ready to stop whatever the aggressor was doing, but the
man
‒
the boy
‒
with his face crushed against
the wall licked his lips and smiled. He would pray for that boy.
Jesus
Christ.
Josiah
stepped closer.
He
wanted to get close enough to pull the man off the boy, but the sound of their
bodies was deafening.
Not
the grunts and groans, but the spit-slick push and pull of sin. You could
silence your throat, but not the meeting of incompatible bodies. It was the
sound of the total disregard of humanity.
Because
this wasn't human. This was a spit in the face to the Divine.
This
was Satan's symphony.
His
father was right. He should've never come.
His
father would be appalled that he was here. Josiah wouldn't need him to know
right away. If at all.
This
was a mission trip from his church home in Austin.
And
these people here. They needed Jesus. They might need a Revelation.
Josiah
would be the one to bring them the Good News.
His
father said that people in the States were in the Devil's clutches and that he
wasn't inclined to let them go anytime soon. The Devil was a master at
recruiting.
Josiah
took it as a challenge. He was filled with Purpose and Light, and he was
convinced that his very presence could be a soothing balm.
He'd
never been challenged quite like this, though. He might have to start smaller
just for the practice.
He
wasn't afraid, but he needed to be effective. That may take skill that he
hadn't needed to use before. He was still rather new at proselytizing. It was
unheard of back home because everyone believed. It was a false sense of
security even if the fence kept the Devil at bay.
Satan
was everywhere here. In every sigh and movement. In the man's brown fingers who
prepared his foreign food. The first bite was delicious, but the raucous
laughter at a nearby table of young women told Josiah that the Devil was in the
food.
Even
the key to his immaculate hotel room was given to him by a woman dressed in
men's clothes.
Its
saving grace was the floor to ceiling windows giving him a view of a serene
courtyard. The juxtaposition of the small courtyard within the enormous city
seemed incongruous, but it worked. It almost reminded him of his church. He
took it as a sign.
It
was a dangerous place, and the blatant transgressions only hid the perverted
ones. To see sin was one thing, but to see, smell, and hear them was quite
another. It permeated the walls. The concrete was filthy. He couldn't see
beauty in the city at all.
Josiah's
first love was real estate. He was very good at it. He'd been told on numerous
occasions that he could sell God to the unrepentant, and they'd be on their
knees once Josiah had spoken to them.
He
took it to heart.
Josiah
helped secure a plot for a magnificent place of worship.
Communion.
It
was too pure and beautiful to be among the old chapels in Austin.
It
was a marvel of architecture and it must've been the soul of God when the
sunlight hit the prism windows every morning.
It
was an obscene monolith and it was impossible to ignore. The building was stark
white with a razor steeple, reminiscent of the small town churches lost to
history, but it loomed high on a hill, overlooking the city and the hill
country with panoramic views. The entire front and back walls had strategically
placed windows that when the sun hit each one, it illuminated the inside with
glorious color. And when it passed overhead, the sun would shine through a
skylight and hit a prism within, and the city would see its God-given glory.
Josiah
saw the beauty of his childhood faith and joined in earnest. He sat on the
committee to plan how best to spread the Gospel, and the States were the first
item on the agenda. The church had connections to some of the wealthiest
Texans, and was able to charter a flight out whenever it was needed, so they
were able to expand the mission field.
The
largest city was New York City, and after a year of planning, and securing a
flight out, it was decided that Josiah would go alone and see how terrible it
was.
To
see if there was hope.
He
wasn't leaving a wife or child behind.
He
was betrothed to a girl, but the contract was voided when his father found out
she had some medical issues that caused her to be infertile.
Josiah
wasn't really heartbroken about it, and felt it was just another sign that
missionary work was his path in life. He refused any possible new contracts for
a bride, and his father had given up it seemed.
But
it wasn't like James Agnesson would give up on anything, so Josiah assumed he'd
be written out of any of his family's property once his father had died.
It
made Josiah a little sad, but only just. He'd earned rather a lot of money in
real estate, and he could live comfortably on his Communion paycheck.
He
didn't know it would be so bad in New York. The bustle of the city was near
manic, but the secluded quiet corners bred wickedness.
But
he knew his Bible.
He
knew the power of God.
“Go,
and sin no more,” Josiah spoke with authority.
Both
of the men stopped moving, but the one man's penis was still in deep. The one
against the wall huffed out an incredulous laugh. “What?”
“Go,
and sin no more. You will be forgiven,” he said. He tried not to curl his lip
in disgust. It wasn't his place to judge, as difficult as that was. They all
had their trials.
“Forgiven?
What? Are you on something?” The boy asked again.
Josiah
stared at the boy while the other one started to thrust upward again. He
watched as his eyes rolled back in his head. They had no idea what he was
talking about. None at all.
“Stop!”
Josiah was enraged. He wanted to yank that boy away.
The
larger man paused and looked back at him. “I'm almost done here. Wait your
turn.”
“He'd
rather have a cunt,” the boy pressed backwards.
“Wrong
alley, then.” His dick was still buried deep. “A few streets that way.” His
head tipped forward. “Ask for Cecelia. She's who the locals recommend. You
won't care if there's meat on your dick once she lets you come in her mouth. If
you are lucky enough to get a fuck, I hear it's like the Promised Land.” He
looked back at the impudent boy who was grinding backwards. He smacked his ass.
“Now you. Stop moving. Unless you don't want it hard.”
Josiah
turned. He wanted to run.
The
Promised Land. The Devil was mocking him. It was frighteningly clear.
He
needed to go back to his hotel room.
He
needed to pray for strength and clarity.
He
knew this was what he was meant to do. This was absolutely his calling. It
would be the most difficult thing to do, but he would do it. He didn't believe
the Devil was unconquerable.
The
television in the hotel room had over one-thousand channels. Fornication was on
most of them. There were varying degrees of explicitness.
Josiah
knew about sex. He'd seen it enough while being raised on a farm. He'd also
watched his father with an indiscreet woman. That was when he realized that his
father wasn't as strong as he'd thought. But, he'd been rough with her, and
swore at her, and choked her. She never returned.
After
seeing tonight's display, maybe he'd underestimated him. Maybe his father knew
exactly how to handle the Devil, and it had been easier on more familiar turf.
It might be unorthodox, but his father was the smartest person he knew.
Josiah
finished his dinner. He'd gone to a small shop and bought a couple sandwiches
along with bottles of water. He was familiar with those, and had a woman been
the one to prepare it, all the better. He'd prayed long and hard before he took
the first bite.
Once
he was ready for bed, and quickly mapped out his agenda for the next day, Josiah
quickly flipped though the channels to see if there was anything redeeming.
A
woman was fully naked, and her legs were spread wide. The man on top was
rubbing his dick up and down her wet slit. He was saying terrible things to
her. He crawled up her chest and she licked him, and Josiah pressed against his
erection. He turned the volume down just a little.
He
began to fuck her face, and Josiah wondered if the punishment fit the crime.
His question was soon answered as soon as he pulled his dick free and
ejaculated all over her grateful face. Josiah watched her lick her lips.
He
turned the channel quickly and found a woman bouncing confidently on top of a
young man. Her breasts were secure in his hands.
Josiah
turned the channel again. A man's tongue was buried in another man's asshole.
Again.
Channel up. A man had his face between a woman's legs. Josiah watched as he
parted her with his tongue and pressed fingers inside her. She was incoherent,
and she plucked at her nipples.
Next
channel. The man was behind the woman fucking her like an animal. He was
pounding her and she loved it. Josiah lingered. His hand wrapped around his
cock. He didn't realize he was doing it.
He
reluctantly moved to the next. He needed to be armed. Two men, one woman. She
had her ass stretched around one, while the other fucked her. He didn't realize
it was possible. His hand moved rapidly. He wondered if they were going to come
all over her face.
The
man fucking her ass pulled out and he saw the stripes of it painting her gaping
asshole.
Josiah
came. It was a messy ordeal against his hand and his bedclothes. He was
ashamed. He felt almost violated.
He
didn't turn the television off. He slept for ten hours straight.
He
didn't leave his room the next day except for sustenance. He thought of
contacting the front desk to change his answer for “adult-themed” television,
which he found more information on the pamphlet on the desk in his room. He
must've ticked that box at check-in. He was too ashamed to call them. He went
for food, hoping it would distract him
He
walked slowly by alleyways just in case. He got a wink from a young man and a
smirk, and was momentarily confused until the boy spoke. “Did you ever find a
wet pussy? If you're still looking, I've got a mouth, same as anyone. And an
asshole. Just keep your eyes closed.”
Josiah
walked quickly back to his room. He didn't know what he was meant to do, and
God hadn't answered his prayer. He knew that God did that sometimes, but now
was not a good time.
He
didn't understand why he was being tested. He felt forsaken. It didn't make
sense why God would test him when he was there to do His Works.
Maybe
he was meant to go find a church. There was plenty around the city, though most
of them from what he understood weren't places of worship any longer. They were
usually museums and organizations that helped lazy drunkards. Some of the more
historical ones were still culturally relevant and held services, but Josiah
didn't know which would be spiritually beneficial.
That
night, he tried to unplug the television, but it was bolted into the wall with
no power supply that he could see.
He
kept the volume low. He watched as a woman straddled a man's face. Josiah moved
his hand to the rhythm of her hips.
As
soon as the man threw her off and violently pummeled her with his dick, Josiah
came all over his stomach.
The
church confused him. It was a beautiful old building and larger than any he'd
ever seen. He sat near the front so he could catch every sacred syllable. It
was packed with nicely dressed men, women, and children, so he felt comfort in
the seeking crowd.
He
recognized the verses the preacher spoke of, but his exuberance at delivering
the devotionals wasn't something Josiah had witnessed before.
He
didn't speak of wickedness, but of selfishness. He didn't speak of lust, but of
betrayal. He preached the power of prayer and how it could bring a community
together. Individual prayer was one thing, but a community praying for ending a
war or helping to fund orphanages would be sending those prayers viral. They
could empower those who wish for change and educate the rest of their
communities on current events.