Prologue

I have been summoned home, back to the dry desert landscapes and the lush oasis estate home where I was born and raised until I was sent off to attend the western schools like most sons of wealthy Arabic families. I didn’t want come back for the reasons that caused my parents to demand my return. I didn’t want to have anything to do with my maternal Grandfather, but the ancient tyrant was dead and as a good son, I returned to the land of my birth and do what is required of me.

If it wasn’t for my angel of a mother, I would have stayed State side where I was happily enjoying my life and the freedom to be who I am as I managed our families multiple business corporations there. Now, I must see to the estate and business holdings the old man has left behind for the El-Sayed legacy once again expand its wealth. The maternal side of my family’s money and its import and export companies has been finally released from the iron fist of the old man’s control.

Little did I know that when I inherited this responsibility, I also inherited something that will shock me to the core of my soul. An undiscovered secret that the aged bigot has kept locked up in a hidden room in the master suite of his palatial home. The bastard continued practicing an antiquated custom that the men of my line have long ago ceased to adhere to in these modern times. I found myself placed in a situation that will bring me to my knees and challenge the beat of my heart.

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

(Darian Alvarez, my idea of what Kamal would look like.)

PLEASE READ- I wanted to take this time at the beginning of this story to say a few things. This story covers a very sensitive subject matter that is taboo to the Arabic culture in which it refers and the Islamic religion. This book is not intended to offend anyone of that culture or religion. It is a work of fiction and through research I know the teachings of the Quran’s teachings are about love and peace. I repeat this is a work of FICTION. I am sorry and if you are offended by the content if this story, please do not read it. I mean no disrespect to anyone. Thank you, xoxo Dianna*

Kamal…

I saw nothing but blue sky and fluffy white clouds as I stared out the window of my father’s private jet. Cheerful rays of sunlight shone from behind the puffed peaks of the clouds and the serene picture didn’t match my disgruntled mood at all. I hated my life so much right now. I was almost desperate enough to reach for the lever of the emergency exit and throw myself out of the plane from whatever height it is that the pilot has achieved.

I was being ferried home to perform a task that I felt was much better suited for either of my brothers. Farooq, the perfect first born son and crowned prince of the family, or Hamid, the second born son, and my father’s second in command of the El-Sayed empire. But no, this responsibility has fallen on my shoulders, the third born son, who has absolutely nothing better to do but jettisoned around the world on the family’s millions, and since both of my older brothers were otherwise occupied with our family’s vast business holdings under my family’s holdings both in America and Saudi Arabia. I was presenting myself like the obedient boy I was raised to be, please note the sarcasm here.

It was my parents wish that I was the one to come home and handle grandfather’s estate upon his untimely demise. I found it ironic that I was the one decreed to see to his affairs after his heart attack that caused his passing. The old bastard had never liked me or approved of my lifestyle as an out and proud gay man. I was disgrace in his eyes as a man and a man of proud Arabic descent at that.

My siblings and I were allowed the unique opportunity to choose whether we embraced the Muslim way of life or practice the Christian faith of our paternal grandmother’s upbringing. Needless to say I chose the less restrictive teachings of God versus the sauntch rituals and unforgiving laws of Allah. Being gay and having a religion is a very personal choice, according to both, I am damned, an abomination that is unnatural and my soul should burn in Hell for all eternity. It’s wonder I’m not am atheist. I was fully accepted for who I am even with Christianity on my paternal side, but the patriarch of my mother’s side of family was firmly entrenched the old world Islamic faith and beliefs. So I was an outcast to them despite the rest of my teibes acceptance me and my sexual preference.

My brothers and my father didn’t care who I loved, as long as I wasn’t making myself into a whore or making a spectacle of myself by flaunting dozens of lovers all over the place. My mother, God bless her, just wanted me to find a nice young man to settle down with and for me to be happy in a committed relationship.

But let’s face it, as a 25 year old man, I still had some time to sow my wild oats so to speak, and I was happier than hell doing just that in New York City. I was quite fine dating and fucking my through the bountiful selection of beautiful boys that city that never sleeps had to offer.

Now and for the foreseeable future until my grandfather’s affairs are sorted out, the very way of life as I know it is over. I am going back to the sweltering desert region and the ultra conservative environment steeped in rigid beliefs that shunned who I am as person. I sighed yet again and stared listlessly through the little portal window as I was being taken to a place I wouldn’t willingly go back to if it were my choice.

I managed to politely smile at the hostess as she all but tripped over herself in serving my afternoon repast. I dismissed her after she arranged the tray for me with one last longing look before she disappeared back to the part of the plane where she came from. Sorry honey, as cute as you are there is nothing in this world that would entice me to take a dip in your waters. Give me a tight firm ass anyday and I am a happy boy. I looked at the tray that was placed in front of me and trust my mother to make sure that I would have foods from our culture instead of my, Americanized diet, as she called it reintroduced to me.

She was welcoming me home with the aromatic fragrance of Al-Qahwa. The rich scent of the roasted beans paired with cloves and cinnamon stirred my appetite all the same and I was careful as I picked up the piping hot fenjan with both hands and inhaled the scent of the strong brew deep into my lungs before tilting the cup and draining the beverage in one sip, the typical sparse serving just coating the bottom of the cup. I had to admit that my mouth watered for the bowl of candied fruits sitting next to the dallah that held even more of the rich beverage. Usually, I would have let the hostess continue to serve me but I didn’t want to put up with her starry eyed gaze so I served myself another serving of my coffee as I popped the fruit into my mouth. God I missed this, but I will never admit it out loud to my mother.

After my third serving of coffee and finishing off almost half the bowl of fruit, I called the hostess to remove the tray and pulled out my Macbook and powered it up. I went through the documents my father and my grandfather’s attorney’s sent me giving me power of attorney to see to the honored Naji Shariff’s estate and business interests.

I read the reports from grandfather’s private doctors documenting the events of the massive cardiac infarct that claimed his life. It was witness my one of the servants that had been serving him breakfast. She had immediately called for medical assistance and called for his valet who performed CPR on the man but to no avail. He was pronounced dead right there on his dining room floor. My parents were in Paris at the time and they immediately returned to Riyadh, our families home city in Saudi Arabia when they were notified.

My brothers are supposed to arrive to the city tomorrow and various other members of the family and several business associates by the next day. Grandfather’s Janazah or funeral will be held the following day. All the rituals will be strictly adhered to as per the old man’s wishes, and out of respect I will refrain from giving my opinion on those rituals because according to them, my mother and sisters, the old man only daughter and granddaughter’s I might add are strongly discouraged from attending the al-Dafin, or burial.

I always have and I will always continue to steer clear on the topic of religion when I am directly involved in family gatherings. My siblings and I were raised as Christians with healthy respect for other faiths, were we taught both the Christian way and the Islamic way as per our culture and the only thing I had against the Islamic faith is the belief that because I love another man, that I am a gay man, then I am committing a crime that is punishable by severe beatings and even death, judged by man well as Allah.

Thank God for my immediate families acceptance of not only myself but all of my siblings. Our parents are open minded enough to let us all be who we want or need to be, but they have never neglected to raise us properly in both faiths. My grandfather on the other hand believed that I blighted Allah, and broke the law when I went to the Western school and let the Devils lead me astray. He had cursed me and told me he no longer acknowledges me as a blood relation to him. So I don’t know why in the Hell my parents chose me of all of their offspring to be the one to see to affairs. I am sure the old bastard was flipping like a fish in the mosque where his body is being prepared.

The overhead intercom dinged and the pilot’s voice filtered through and he gave his in flight update. I looked out the window as his words registered only to see that night has fallen. I checked the time on my computer and it was 9:30 p.m. (EST) so it is 4:30 a.m. (GST+3) in Riyadh. I still had four and half hours left before the jet lands at King Khalid International Airport. A car will be waiting for me to take me to my families home to be smothered to death by my mother and my sisters. “Yay, happy times.” I thought as I shut down my laptop and put it away.

I got up and stretched the kinks out of my long limbs before making my way to the back of the plane. I might as well catch a nap as I am ferried through the time zones. I can only hope and pray I won’t suffer from jet lag by the time I make it to the Kingdom of my childhood.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

(Left: Beto Malfacini as Farooq and on the right: Reuben Cortada as Hamid)

Kamal…

“Ugh…For fuck’s sake!” I groaned and curled into myself as pain shot through my abused abdomen and my eyes popped open to see a grinning Farooq sitting on the side of my bed grinning like a fool. It’s only been a little over 24 hours since I set foot back into my family’s home, smothered by my mother, badgered to death by my youngest sister, and then finally allowed to go to sleep. “You are almost 30 years old, doesn’t jumping in my gut first thing in the morning get tired?” I blurted out as I rubbed the ridges of my traumatized abdomen.

“Nope, it never gets old, ”Akhi al-sagheer”(my little brother). So how’s it hanging?” He asked as he made himself comfortable by forcefully shoving me over to the middle of the bed. Then he unceremoniously stretched out his long muscular frame on my bed and reclined himself on my newly vacated pillows.

I just shook my head and shifted around until I was once again comfortable. If tradition followed its pattern, Hamid was going to be joining us any minute now. At least I was already awake and I was ready to block his attempts of giving me a wet willy. “Nothing is hanging, and the longer I have to stay here, I am sure nothing will be hanging anytime soon.” I griped and a burst of laughter from my bedroom doorway announced Hamid’s arrival to our long-established early morning get together. We have been meeting together like this early in the morning before the rest of the household was awake since we were kids. It felt kind of nice doing it again even if the two idiots still acted like children.

A smile curved my lips as my brother stepped into the room and shut the bedroom door. He turned to face us with his usual mischievous gleam in his eyes. I anticipated his purpose a second before he ran across the plush carpeting and launched himself into the air. His intention of dive bombing us was clear as day in his goofy expression. I quickly pushed Farooq over and out of my way. He fell off the side of the bed onto the floor with a loud thud and a surprised grunt. I rolled over into his spot just as Hamid’s solid weight landed in the very spot I just vacated.

“Ya’ll are assholes, you know that.” I complained as I rolled back over, it was more like I was pushed back over into the middle of the rumpled bed. Farooq once again settled his large body back on my pillows and made himself comfortable.

“Yeah, but you love us anyway. By the way, to comment on your earlier statement. You will be fine. You know that old man kept meticulous records of everything. It’s just going to be a matter of sorting them out and handing it over to the lawyer’s so that El-Sayed Enterprises can legally absorb Shariff & Company Ltd.” Hamid cajoled and I couldn’t help but to feel annoyed with my brother and his nonchalant attitude towards my current predicament.

“If you feel it’s going to be so fucking simple to be back here for however long in the foreseeable future where I can be hanged if I dared to look at another man for too long or with any type of interest. Then why don’t you stay here and handle the old bigot’s fucking affairs so I can go the Hell back New York where I was fucking happy.” I snapped in my brother’s shocked face a second before our heads snapped towards my bedroom door when we heard an audible gasp.

“I was just coming to tell you boys to clean up for breakfast, your father arrived last night and he will be in attendance.” Our mother quietly informed us and I felt the shame of her witnessing my words wash over me.

I quickly pushed myself to the end of the bed and called out, “Mama…I didn’t…”

My mother just held up her dainty little hand and my words of apology came to a complete stop on my tongue and she responded, “ibni, (my son)…It’s alright, I know having to deal with your grandfathers affairs is going to be difficult for you, but please remember that he was my father.”

I bowed my head in respect to her before she closed the door and I got to my feet with a heavy heart. For once, Hamid and Farooq were silent and they gave me a sympathetic pat on the back before they adjourned to there own quarters to prepare to break our morning fast.

I felt bad that my mother overheard what I said about her father, but I regardless of that, I knew meant what I said about him. Over the years, the old bastard had taken it upon himself to push matters that didn’t concern him. The one that had finally had me admitting my sexuality to my family was when ornery son of a bitch had encouraged our grandmother, who was alive at the time, to discreetly look into finding brides for all three of us.

Good Muslim women as he had phrased the term, knowing full well that we’re Christians, a fact he chose to ignore and called rubbish whenever it was mentioned by anyone in our family. My maternal grandparents didn’t even consult our mother as per the tradition of having the mother of the children usually arrange these things. She was their only daughter and he had callously bypassed her wishes with the possibility of her arranging the marriages for her sons. He didn’t feel the need to discuss his high handed behaviour of choosing a wife for all three of his grandsons even before any of us was old enough to be interested in the opposite sex, or in my case the same sex.

The shock of the discovery of what he had done came to all of us when Farooq had come of age and he returned home to the blistering heat in Riyadh after he had graduated from Duke University with his MBA. Hamid was starting his second year at Harvard, and I was just completing my third and final year of my secondary education at Jubail Academy International School.

It seemed like the situation had come out of nowhere when all of a sudden my brother was presented with the woman he was decreed to marry one afternoon when he went to visit our grandparents. For a man who was supposed to be steeped in the Muslim way of life, he certainly didn’t adhere to the proper laws when it came to getting what he wanted. The old bastard hadn’t even adhered to the custom of having the young lady meet the women of our family before she is presented to the would be groom. We were all shocked out of wits, my father who was a usually calm and level headed man exploded like an American Independence day fireworks display. My poor mother had cried her little angelic heart out over the almost violent clash between the men in her life. Farooq had outright refused to set eyes on the girl and she went home in tears after being promised and refused by the the wealthy and influential first born El-Sayed son. Hamid wasn’t here to voice his opinion, but my grandfather had looked to me to support his asinine decision about finding us suitable wives from his group of business partners, and I had belligerently exclaimed that no woman would ever do for me.

I was young and full of myself at the time, and I never had to hide my feelings or thoughts at home, so I didn’t understand why I had to do so in front of my grandfather. Little did I know that the old man would go almost apoplectic with rage. My father had to have the man physically removed from our property after his display of denouncing me as an abomination and disowned me as any relation of his. It wasn’t long after my father hand banned them from our home that my grandmother passed away.

My mother had spent a month with her father after her mother’s death. My father may not have wanted the old man under his roof, but he never forbade my mother from going to visit her parents. He would have never done that, for despite the fact that their marriage was an arranged one, they truly had learned to love each other over time. They produced six children during the course of their union. My oldest siblings, Farooq and Farrah, the middle siblings, Hamid and Yazmin, and then the youngest siblings, Nasim and I.

Despite of all my grandfather’s predictions and promises of Allah’s retribution on my blackened soul, my head had been full of my teenage thoughts about finally getting the freedom to explore who I am and to embrace my sexuality. I had no aspirations to follow either of my brother’s footsteps in attending the heavy hitting Ivy League colleges like Duke and Harvard. I applied and got accepted to the prestigious Columbia University in New York. The Institution was close enough to the city itself where I had been sure to get myself as much experience as I wanted in the homosexual community.

Another deciding factor for me that had made me select New York over Los Angeles was the weather. I had spent almost 18 years sweltering away in the dry ass desert of my birth country and I wanted to see snow. I wanted to know what it was like to be cold enough to have to put on layers of clothes. I wanted to be free to be me without worrying about sullying my family’s name, or being murdered or heinously beaten or castrated for being a queer. Most likely to save my own life if I survived my culture’s brand of punishment, I would either have to flee the country or be forced to marry a woman I would never be able feel any type of desire for.

I had achieved all of teenage dreams and then some. I had my fill of sweet pretty little boys with firm tight asses to dominant muscle bears who demanded that I bend over and allow them to ream my ass until I had no recollection whatsoever of what my name was. I had figured out over my timespan of experimenting that I most definitely preferred being a top with occasionally choosing to bottom from time to time. Either way was pleasurable for me, but for me and my personality. I liked to be in charge in every aspect of my life, especially in the bedroom.

Finishing up my morning routine, I tried not to let myself get too bitter about being summoned home for the purpose that I returned for. As I got dressed, I tried to look on the bright side. I wasn’t going to be stuck here forever. Maybe all this business will only take only a couple of months and then I can return to my trendy fifth avenue apartment and resume my position as VP of Marketing at the House of EL-Sayed, the fashion and clothing portion of the family business created and run by my oldest sister, Farrah. The clothing portion of our little empire was known for its high end all occasion gowns and couture attire. It was located smack dab in the middle of the fashion district in midtown Manhattan.

My cock twitched and my skin tingled with the fond memories I have of all my discreet and some not so discreet hook ups all over the city. I already missed the blaring car horns, the crowds of people, and the trendy bars and restaurants my friends and I frequented on a regular basis.

Sighing, I turned and made my way through the maze of my parent’s mansion and followed my nose towards the dining room. I guess I was the last one to arrive because all of my siblings were seated, my mother was presiding over the table, and my father was busy eyeing everything that my mother refused to let him eat instead of what she had placed on his plate.

I quickly planted my ass in my chair and wedged myself in between Farooq and Hamid. I politely greeted everyone and waited for my mother to say grace. Once we were finally allowed to eat I couldn’t help but eye the spread that my mother had prepared for us. Not only did she have the regular staples like scrambled eggs, pancakes, and American coffee with cream and sugar. She also had traditional dishes sfiha (meat pies with made with succulent mutton), knafa (a sugary sweet cheese pastry), and ful (fava and chickpeas stew) along with a plethora of croissants, pita bread, and fruit.

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face when Fatima, my mother’s head cook served us our Saudi tea. My siblings and I could help but to smile at each other as the slender glasses were filled to the brim with the sweetened tea. We used to dare each other to see who could hold the piping hot glass between the fingers the longest before gulping the contents. I must admit, that some things like this right here, the gathering of the people that I love the most in this world was worth coming home for. I just wished that the choice to come home and the time frame I was going to be staying here for was my decision to make and not at my father’s decree.

I was jostled out of my thoughts, by Hamid rudely reaching across me trying to snare the last sfiha off the serving platter, but I pushed his hand away and snagged the scrumptious pie for myself. It’s been too damn long since I had one and I would happily fight my brother over the pastry. He stuck out his bottom lip and got ready to say something sarcastic but he caught my father’s eye and he snapped his mouth shut under our patriarch’s notorious glare. I couldn’t help but to mockingly stick out my tongue at him. I made sure to make a show of digging into my food. Hamid just sucked his teeth and went back to his own breakfast. “Yes, some things were worth coming home for.” I thought as the flavors and spices of my culture burst across my tongue, and I savored every scrumptious bite. I was going to need all the energy I could get to make my first initial visit to grandfather’s house later on today.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

(Main sitting room of Grandfather’s house)

Kamal…

I was happy when the old man’s Janazah (funeral) was finally over and I was more than overjoyed to get away from the scrutiny of all the tyrants judgemental friends and business associates. My brothers and I were practically challenged to return the repeated Islamic greeting of, “As-salamu alaykum,” to those friends and associates that were in attendance for his final journey.

We witnessed several disapproving eyes glaring in our direction when we didn’t actively participate in the Salah (prayer). My father as the son-in-law and closest male relative to the deceased had to place the soil markers for grandfather’s body to rest on when he was placed to face Mecca at the Al-dafin (burial).

Our grandfather’s circle of friends and business colleagues were very much aware that my siblings and I were not Muslim, and they disapprovingly censored every move we made throughout the entire ritual of laying the man to rest. I found it ironic that those same self righteous old bastards will be simpering at my feet at El-Sayed Enterprises headquarters at the Al Faisaliyah Centre when it becomes public knowledge that my family’s company has taken control of Shariff & Company Ltd.

Almost all of those same men viewed my father and his children as our late grandfather viewed us, as outsiders. We were supposedly skirting the Muslim laws by a mere thread and the prestige of much respected El-Sayed family name. The contention between our maternal grandfather and my father started well before we, the children came along. Especially me, the accursed sodomite as the bastard had so venomously labeled me.

Grandfather’s displeasure began when his only child, a daughter that he never paid much attention to because she was unfortunate enough to be born female, and the only offspring that came from his marriage who was matched by his equally neglected wife in an arranged marriage to my father, one of the El-Sayed eligible bachelors who was never a Muslim to begin with. A match he had resentfully consented to because of the old influential family name and financial standing which was too lucrative for his greedy blackened heart to pass up on.

Also grandfather’s ruffled feathers were somewhat soothed for the fact that for my father it was love at first sight when he first laid eyes on our mother. He was so smitten with her that he chose to embrace Islam in order to make her his wife. Otherwise their union would have been forbidden. That was another reason I chose Christiany.

Our father was not born in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Malik El-Sayed was born on British soil, a proper English gentleman born to lovingly blissful married couple. A pretty Caucasian Englishwoman and a proud Arabic businessman. Our paternal grandfather had passed on before his son was even born of an unknown fever when he traveled to Kuwait to conduct business. Our widowed grandmother raised her son in her Anglican faith. It wasn’t until the boy was three years old that the wealthy cousins of her deceased husband reached out to her after a lengthy search and the child that was my father was introduced to his Arab lineage.

As the honored wife of my paternal grandfather, my grandmother along with her son were brought to Riyadh and resided in her late husband’s family’s household where she lived in comfort for the remainder of her days. Our father was raised along with his multitude of cousins as the privileged princes they were supposed to be. They were educated in the very best schools both in England and America and they have built upon the already growing El-Sayed empire.

Our father loved the land and the culture so much that he had rarely strayed far from his desert homeland for long periods of time. He remained Christian though, stating that he is who he is and he believed in God, no matter what he was called, and that was how we were raised. That was until he met our mother who wanted to remain Muslim and practiced all the rituals and laws of the religion so our father happily converted to be with her and it can never be said that my father was guilty of Proselytism (converting our mother to another religion), which is considered illegal in the Kingdom.

The maternal side of the family thought it was blasphemy that our mother married a man not born into the Islamic faith, like he wasn’t pure blood enough or something.

They felt that we were just skirting the forbidden, but my parents didn’t give a crap what those judgemental bastards thought. Their union soon turned from that of an arranged marriage to one that was truly based on mutual love and respect. My father doted on our mother like she was a Queen, and our mother worshipped the very ground my father walked on. My parents are awesome and I thanked God for them everyday, that was until they summoned me home to endure my current situation.

I stared dispassionately out of the car window as the vehicle brought me closer and closer to the monstrosity that was my grandfather’s house. The thing was huge, sixteen bedrooms and bathrooms, two kitchens one indoor and one outdoor, three swimming pools, one of them inside the house, a movie theater, library and blah, blah, such sheer extravagance for only one person.

When I was younger and I had first laid eyes on the house, I thought that it a hotel until mother had explained that it was actually her parents home. I had childish dreams wondering if the man was a Sultan or something, but those dreams had crashed and burned when I was introduced to a vile bitter man that looked upon us like we weren’t good enough to be in his presence.

“Ugh…look at that excessive excuse for architecture, good Lord, I do not envy you this task.” Farooq commented from beside me and I looked up to see the house in question looming closer and closer as we made our way towards it. Hamid had outright refused to come along, but trust nosy as Hell Farooq to pass up the opportunity to satisfy his curiosity. He couldn’t help but to come to see the inside of the house we haven’t set foot inside of since that fateful day Farooq had visited to pay his respects and almost met his unwanted bride to be.

I wondered if grandfather had changed anything on the inside of his home since we were last there. I mean he had no need to since everything in the interior of that house had cost a small fortune. Most likely it all added up to GDP of a small country. I remembered gleaming marble floors, expensive persian rugs, solid silver hookahs, and pillars lined with rich emerald silks and gold accents.

Jesus, just thinking of the small army of servants it took to run that house and having to either find them other employment or even retire some of them made my head hurt, but my father’s instructions was very clear, and that was to put the house on the market as soon as possible. Neither he nor my mother wanted anything to do with it.

The car pulled through the ornate iron gates and into the semi circular drive of the extravagant estate. Already the head servant was awaiting our arrival on the front steps of the house. As we got out of the car a hot burst of gritty wind made our cultural Thawbs (robes) billow out behind us and earlier I resented having to wear our Keffiyehs (headdresses), but being out with the heat of the afternoon sun for just the few minutes it took us to alight the front steps and step into the air conditioned grand foyer of our grandfather’s home was enough to make want to strip naked and sit in an ice bath.

I would have much prefered a pair of lightweight gym shorts and a tank top with a pair flip flops rather than the billowing cotton of our robes the layers of our head dress, but since we were out in public for most of the day, it is simpler to dress in our native attire. It’s hard enough to have to explain to the Haia (religious police) why we are not observing salat (prayer) five times a day if we are caught and about during prayer time, something we avoided at all cost.

We made sure that we personally as well as professionally followed every law and ritual of the dominant religion and culture in this country. We followed everything from dressing, to allowing our employees 30 to 45 minutes three to four times a day for prayer. We have people in place to make sure that happened for one wrong move by you or someone representing you can have you finding yourself in the middle of the city being stoned to death like you were locked in some kind of medieval nightmare. That was the nature of the Kingdom, “enjoying good and forbidding bad.”

Our grandparent’s long time house man bowed low in respect before solicitously inquiring about our health and our family, in which we answered him and returned the favor. Once the niceties were completed it was off to have an afternoon repast where we will wait for both sets of attorneys, grandfather’s and ours as we catalogue the house, the servants, and the contents within. It was going to be a tedious task that will no doubt take a few days to complete.

Farooq and Hamid were leaving the next day to go back to the United States. My sisters were not allowed to have anything to do with this situation and my shoulders slumped about spending that much time the this luxuriously cold but ornate dwelling. I guess it could be worse. It was hard to remain positive when with each maid or employee I passed eyed me like a was a viper in their mists.

For some reason the house man seemed nervous and kept glancing at me like he expected me to turn into some kind of pumpkin or something. Even Farooq picked up on the air of agitation running rampant in the atmosphere by the frown creasing his handsome face.

We were served rich dates with of course, Al-Qahwa (Saudi coffee) on elegant silver service trays. I really didn’t have too much of an appetite feeling as unsettled as I was. I couldn’t to get this over with fast enough. Maybe I should have waited for another day or so to tackle this endeavour, but as usual I wanted to hurry up and get it over with so I can see to my own affairs and interests. Sighing heavily and resigning myself to my fate, the only thing I could do was work the Hell out of Farooq while I had him. I couldn’t help the smile that split my face as my gaze turned towards my big brother.

“If Mama saw you stuffing your face like that she would be mortified and box you over the head.” I said as I watched him stuff another date in his mouth.

“Have you tasted these, my God, it’s like ambrosia.” He mumbled around a mouthful of sweets.

“Well, eat up brother dear because I got plans for you.” I gave him my most engaging smile, full of teeth and innocence. Farooq just blinked at me then he groaned and shrugged his wide shoulders before continuing to stuff his face.

I mentally catalogued what I wanted to accomplish today once the solicitors arrived. The first place we will begin this arduous task was the old man’s inner sanctum, his oppressive office.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

(The hidden file)

Kamal…

“Well, that was interesting.” Farooq said as he closed grandfather’s office door behind the departing solicitors and walked back across the polished marble floor and took a seat opposite the old man’s ornate mahogany desk.

I swung myself from side to side in the plush chair I was sitting in behind the desk as I looked over the multiple files spread across its surface. The records contained of everything from the receipts for all his household possessions to the financial reports of all his business holdings. The man even had records for each and every employee in his household and his company.

Everything I needed was right there within reach and for that I was eternally grateful. It’s just a matter now of cataloging everything before putting them up for sale, and sorting out the employees to have them placed in another household or retire them with a modest lump sum of money. It was going to be Hamid’s job to sort out the employees on the business side of things.

There was a discreet knock on the outer office door and Farooq raised a questioning brow at me before calling out to whoever it was to enter. Our grandfather’s house man bowed himself into the room and a frown marred my features. The man had been acting weird all day. He was jumpy and kept fidgeting every time we discussed going through the house room by room within the next few days. Farooq kept his penetrating gaze on the bowed head waiting for the man to state his business.

The servant asked with false meekness how much longer we intended to stay in the house and should he prepare the evening meal for us? Farooq got up and stood up to his full height and towered over the sniveling little fucker. I couldn’t help the smile that creased my lips because although the trifling simpering man covered his audacity with offering us a meal. He still had the nerve to question us like we weren’t now the sole owners of this mausoleum and everything and everyone in it. I watched the crown prince of our family prepare to put the man in his place.

“How dare you question us, if you need to know something we will tell you. If we need food we will tell you that as well. Neither I or my brother will tolerate any disrespect from the staff in this house. We are fully aware of our grandfather’s feelings towards us, and I find it ironic that the one brother he abhorred the most is the only one who can tolerate salvaging this God forsaken estate and all of you in it. Now get out and don’t return unless we call you and no, we don’t need anything to eat.” He snapped and the man literally backed out of the room still bowed at the waist.

Farooq flopped back into his seat and flung one long leg over the armrest. “Even his servants feel like are somehow superior to us, and what’s with the man. I swear something fishy is going on here?” My brother stated as he sat back only to spring forward again and stared at me with excited wide eyes. “Do you think the old tyrant has some kind of hidden stash of money or dead bodies around here somewhere?”

“You are supposed to be the future leader of our tribe you ass, come on, really?” I deadpanned as I stared at my oldest sibling.

“I’m just sayin, look at how the man’s main servant acts around us. It’s like if he could physically bar us from the house he would, and you didn’t catch the way he was looking at you when you were pulling the files out of the drawers over there. Every time your hand passed over the bottom left drawer it was like he was holding his damn breath.” Farooq enlightened me with an air of intrigue in his tone.

I pursed my lips and stared at him for another minute or two. I hated when the both he and Hamid used to gang up on me and manipulated me by appealing to my natural born curiosity in order to get me to do things that they were also curious about but didn’t want to get in trouble for. You think that after all these years and becoming an adulthood that I would have gotten better at restraining myself from brothers and sisters goading me into doing things against my better judgement.

Rolling back in the chair my gaze traveled from my bastard brother triumphant face to the drawer in question. He quickly got to his feet and scurried around the massive piece of furniture and knelt at my side as I pulled out the now empty drawer. I looked up at my brother and he had his bottom lip in between his teeth all but vibrating with anticipation. I think he had expected a genie or something to pop out the drawer.

“Well do you see any secret file that’s going to lead us to King Tut’s riches or what?” I asked him. I was getting ready to close the empty drawer when a shiny piece of metal poking up out of the back bottom corner of the drawer caught my eye. Leaning my head to the side, I tapped the the bottom of the thing and realized that the bottom of the drawer sounded a little too hollow to supposedly to be made out of solid heavy wood. For once Farooq shut the hell up at the look of concentration on my face.

I quickly scanned the surface of the desk looking for something I could use to maybe pry the wood away from the framework. They landed on a heavy silver letter opener and I quickly reached out and grabbed it. I used the blunt tip of the instrument and worked it under the corner of the wood and pushed underneath it. The thin panel popped up and Farooq reached in and pulled it out of the way.

We both sat there for a quiet minute blinking in confusion at the aged manila envelope at the bottom of the hidden enclosure. “What do you suppose it contains?” Farooq whispered next to my ear like he wa afraid someone was going to hear us.

I turned my head and looked at him like he lost a few screws along the way. “Why the Hell are you whispering agent obvious? Do you think the servants are listening in on what we are doing?

“Don’t let me tell you where to go and how to get there. Now let’s see what inside this thing.” He stuck out his bottom lip as he carefully lifted the yellowed file from it’s resting place.

I cleared a space for him to put it down on top of the desk and rolled to the side to give him some space to open the aged crackling envelope. I must say my heart rate spiked a little bit and I was more than curious than I let on to see the contents as well.

Farooq pulled out several pieces of papers and laid them on top of the envelope, they were just as aged and yellowed as the file they were pulled from. I picked up the first page and my eyes went wide as I made out the beautiful calligraphy of Arabic script. I was looking at a birth certificate, I looked up at my brother and he was just as confused as I was, he pulled one of the chairs around and sat beside me as we took a few minutes to go through the documents.

The more we read was the more the mystery increased, who in the world was Jameel Ali Awad? According to these documents, grandfather was the legal guardian for this kid after the death of his mother, a loyal servant in his house who died and left her six year old son behind. Where was this boy, and why wasn’t he mentioned by the old man’s attorney’s.

“This is some weird shit, everything about this is here on paper, his birth certificate, medical records, but nothing on where this person is, no school records or expense reports, nothing?” Farooq observed and I could only scratch my head in confusion. Then the thought hit me like a ton of bricks and I tapped my brother on his shoulder to get his attention.

“I have an idea who can shed some light on this whole thing. He may even know where this young man is seeing he seemed so anxious earlier.” I watched as the knowledge of exactly who I was talking about dawn on my brother’s handsome face. A devious smile curved his lips as he got up and reached for the house intercom and promptly called for our grandfather’s ever loyal house man.

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Kamal…

“Say again. I don’t think I heard you right the first time and I don’t like repeating myself. I want a clear answer from you because you’re not hiding the fact that you seem to know exactly what I am asking you. Who is this boy Jameel, and where is he?” Farooq stood mere inches away from the quaking servant who was kneeling with his forehead touching the ground, prostrate at my brother’s feet.

“I was sworn to secrecy by my Master…”

“Fuck this shit!” I hollered as I shoved the desk out of the way and grabbed the sniveling little snake up off the floor and slammed him against the wall hard enough to rattle the pictures. “That old bastard is dead and long gone, and I’m sure the tyrant is currently rotting in his grave. Your sworn pledge to keep his secrets and whatever else he was up to died right along with him. So, if you don’t want to be lying next to your beloved Master within the next few hours you will tell us what we need to know.”

The man’s face was almost purple and he just gaped at me in shock for a minute before his expression settled into one of defeated resignation. “He is above stairs locked…In…In Master’s private room.” The man whispered brokenly and his slight body went completely limp in my grasp and I released him. He dropped to his knees in front of me his head bowed in shame.

A feeling of dread settled over me and I spun on my heel and stalked across the room to get away from this revolting man. Locked in the old man’s room, what the Hell? The mental picture of what of what his statement conjured had my gut boiling with barely contained rage. It better not be what I think it is, there is no way that the old man would do something like that.

Grandfather had to have been one of the biggest homophobes on this side of the Kingdom’s hemisphere. Why would he be keeping a young boy or I should say young man locked up in his private bedroom? Why didn’t anyone other than his servant know about him? How long has he been locked up there? Those questions kept rolling around in my head and I needed answers to all of them right this minute.

“Get up off the floor. You may have been required to bow down and treat our grandfather like he was some exalted higher being or something, but trust me he was not. You are not fooling us with your barely contained contempt towards us either, so in truth, you’re insulting us kneeling there as you are. Now go upstairs and bring this young man to us.” I said evenly as I attempted to calm down.

Farooq was now leaning against the desk with his muscular arms crossed over his wide chest. My brother raised an eyebrow when the man began fidgeting. Other than his nervous movements, the servant didn’t make any other attempt to get up from where he was.

Farooq pushed himself up to his full height once again and his expression was fierce. “Did you not hear what my brother said man, you are severely trying my patience.” He snapped and the man cowered away from us even more.

“Sorry Master El-Sayed, but I…Um…I can’t bring the young man to you. He is restrained.” His stated so quietly that I had to lean closer to the repugnant man in order to hear what he said, and hear him I did.

Another blast of fury shot through my bloodstream and before I could take the steps necessary to wring the fucker’s neck, Farooq growled and yanked the man from the floor by his upper arm. “Take us to him.” He demanded and shoved the man towards the door.

The terrified worker peeked over his shoulder at us and quickly scurried out of the room. We were right on his heels as he carried us down the hall and up the ornate staircase. Our steps echoed throughout the empty house as we made our way upstairs. The house man’s eyes kept flicking nervously back to us as he continued to lead the journey down yet another hallway.

We finally arrived at a pair of beautifully crafted double doors made out of thick dark wood and the Turkish designs on the panels were intricately carved. The man fumbled with a set of keys that he had pulled from beneath his Thawb(robe). I was about to impatiently snatch the keys out of his hands and open the door myself but he finally managed to insert the key into the lock and unlock the door. I did however hold out my hand for him to place the ring of keys into the middle of my palm before he had a chance to put them back on his person.

The keys had barely touched my hand before he made a desperate attempt to turn and flee down the hallway, but Farooq grabbed him by the back of the neck, yanked him back and hurled him into the elegantly appointed room. The man was almost on the verge of a panic attack and for some reason, his reaction set off every warning mechanism I had. I quickly scanned the lavish bedroom and there was no one in here. I stomped right up to the man and wrapped my hand around his throat and gave it a firm squeeze just to get my point across, my heart was thumping away at a mile a minute in my chest and my dread was palpable in the air.

“Is this some sort of joke, where is he?” I barked the servant now sweaty face and the distinct smell of urine hit my nostrils and I looked down to see a growing puddle at the fucker’s feet. Farooq jumped back but did release his hold on the back of the servant’s neck. I couldn’t have cared less if he pissed on my shoes at the moment. Something was very wrong here and there was this need to see for myself if this person was whole and unharmed, but the way this man was acting had me severely doubting that my hopes will come to pass.

The man started babbling almost incoherently, and in his terror he had converted from his heavily accented English back to our native tongue as he pointed to a panel next to the head of the gigantic bed dominating the far wall of the bedroom. I rushed over to it and Farooq dragged the man over as well. I pushed at it, but nothing happened. I ran my fingers around the seams of the paneling. I could feel a whisper of cool breeze around the wall but other than that there was nothing to indicate that there was even an opening there. Frustrated, I turned and glared at the house man.

Farooq shook the man like he was a rag doll. “Open it.” He demanded and shoved the man away from him but made sure he blocked the way towards the bedroom door.

The servant seeing that he had no other choice but to obey my brother walked over to the massive headboard and pulled a portion of the silken covered cushion out of the wooden frame. He uncovered some type of button which he pushed and I quickly stepped back when the wall slowly swung forward. The man tried to take advantage of our temporary distraction and bolted for the outer bedroom door.

I swiftly stuck my foot out and tripped him, and the slender man stumbled forward with his arms waving wildly in the air. On his descent, his face aligned perfectly with Farooq’s meaty fist. I didn’t even wince at the bone crushing sound of his chin connecting with my brother’s heavy knuckles, nor did I stay behind to watch the man’s body sail backwards to land in an unconscious heap at the side of his deceased Master’s bed.

I had no idea what I was going to find once I stepped into the dark chilly room, but my feet propelled me forward into the gloom. I held my arms out and my palms brushed the frigid concrete wall seeking some kind of light switch. God, the temperature in the room was borderline freezing and I didn’t take that as a good sign. Suddenly there was a flare of bright light and I held a hand over my eyes until they adjusted to the brightness.

“Oh God.” I heard Farooq’s startled gasp and I dropped my hand from my face and blinked at my brother’s shocked face. I followed his wide-eyed gaze and there on a small bed across the room, someone was lying motionless. The figure was shrouded completely from head to toe in a black abaya (female traditional attire). A niqab (veil) covered the person’s face entirely. I was confused as fuck. Why would a woman be chained up in here instead of this man we were trying to locate. I looked at the heavy chains that were securely connected to the the leather cuffs buckled and padlocked around the ankles and the wrists of this unfortunate soul.

My brother and I broke out of our stupor when the diminutive figure on the bed groaned and we looked at each other. We had no idea what we were going to do until a dry broken little voice whispered, ” min faDlik .(please)”

“Farooq please go get some water and make sure that fucker doesn’t wake up and run away, he has some questions to answer. Call Papa while you are at it and get him to bring Mama and Yazmin with him, her medical training is going to be needed I think.”

He nodded before disappearing back the way we came. I walked up to the bed and tried not to let the smell of unwashed flesh and urine bother me. This poor person was in need of help and it seems that my grandfather was the cause of their current situation. I still couldn’t figure out how is it that in looking for a young man we find a woman chained and shackled in what looked like some secret torture chamber judging by the whips, chains, sexual toys hanging on the walls and on the shelves around the room, and located right behind the old fucker’s bed too. Fury wasn’t a descriptive enough word for what I was feeling.

I reached the bedside and I leaned over and quietly whispered. ” As-salamu alaykum (Peace be onto you.)” The cloaked figure groaned again but otherwise they didn’t say anything, so I tried again, ” ismii Kamal . (My name is Kamal.)” Again nothing other than another little groan. I blew out a sympathetic breath and kept trying to get this person to shed some light on this mystery, ” maa ismuk? (What is your name?)” I finally asked and I waited with baited breath to see if they would answer me.

The figure on the bed tried to roll over and I immediately stuck my arms out and grasped those painfully thin shoulders to help them. I am glad that the person waited until they were settled on their side facing me even with the concealing layers of the veil before they muttered, ” ismii Jameel . (My name is Jameel.)”

“Fuck.” I muttered in English and quickly rushed forward and tried to find a way to take the restraints off the young man but the were padlocked. I needed a key and my mind instantly recalled the ring I took away from the servant. I reached into the pockets of my slacks just as Farooq came barreling back into the room carrying several bottles of water. “This is Jameel. Can you believe this shit?” I promptly stated and Farooq skidded to a stop with a look of confusion on his face.

“Then why the hell is he dressed as a woman?” He barked out the question and I just shrugged my shoulders as I looked for a small enough key to fit the locks.

Finally, I spied a little brass one and I selected it and hoped and prayed that it was the one, and I almost sobbed when the locks fell away and I carefully removed the leather away from the boy’s reddened and raw skin. I did the same for his thin wrists and as soon as his hands were free, he raised a shaky hand to his face and removed the bulky veil.

My had to bite back the exclamation that bubbled up in my throat, but that didn’t stop me from thinking it because sweet mother of God, even with the paleness of his features, the deep dark circles under those sad dark chocolate eyes, and the dry cracked lips. Jameel was absolutely and irrefutably stunning. He was perfection personified and all I could do was just stand here and look at him.

Seeing I was frozen where I stood Farooq uttered his own greeting and stepped forward to help the smaller man up into a sitting position. I continued to watch as Jameel gratefully accepted the bottle of water. His gaze flickered shyly back and forth in between us before he tried to guzzle the contents of the ice cold bottle. He immediately started choking, and I rushed forward nearly knocking Farooq on his ass as I shoved him out of the way to get to the little beauty. I gently patted him on the back and tried my best not to let my anger show. I could feel every knobby bone of his spine that were prominently sticking out. I continued to ease him down from his coughing fit while uttering soothing words of comfort. I steadfastly ignored my brother’s smug all knowing snicker and urged this gorgeous angel to drink a little more water for me, but to take only small sips this time around.

“Mama and Pappa are on the way, Yazmin too. I am going to take grandfather’s servant downstairs to the library, and I am going to dismiss all the other house workers after we question them to see what they know about this situation.” He spoke in English and I just nodded my head.

I still refused to meet his teasing gaze as he gave me a harder than necessary slap on my shoulder before leaving the room. I looked back down at the fragile beauty only to see those big dark eyes flick away from my face. I couldn’t help the smug smile that curved my lips when the pretty little thing blushed and shyly scooted just a little farther away from me.

I assured him that he had nothing to fear from me or my family, and that we just wanted to get to the bottom of what happened to him. The young man’s shoulders slumped even more if it were possible but he didn’t utter another word as he greedily sipped his water. There were so many questions running through my mind, and I was so tempted to ask but I didn’t want to traumatize him more than he seemed to be already. We were going to have to be very delicate in our approach this young man. I still couldn’t help but wonder what this poor thing had to endure at the hands of that goddamned bigot. I hoped Allah condemns him to having his balls slowly roasted all eternity.

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

(Avan Jorgia, my idea of Jameel)

Jameel…

“Oh no, no, no he is coming.” I thought as I heard the door to my prison open. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or afraid. I’m so tired, and every square inch of my body hurt. I don’t know if I could label myself as hungry because the pain in my throat and my stomach went far beyond the description of such a simple word. Master hasn’t fed me in days, maybe weeks, I have lost track of time. I thought that he was finally going to leave me here to die.

I don’t know what I did to displease him. After not seeing him for the few days, I started calling out to him even though he has severely warned me never to do that, but he never answered and I had no choice but to soil myself chained as I was to this bed. Not even Mahmood had come to grudgingly feed me and let me bathe at Master’s request. It was like I was forgotten, something Master had constantly crowed about when he used me for whatever punishment he was doling out or lesson he was trying to teach me .

Now, he is back and I hope he was going feed me before punishing me for soiling myself. I don’t think I could survive so much as a slap without at least a sip of water beforehand. I tried to moisten my mouth but nothing happened, my throat was bone dry and I wanted to cry from the pain burning there. It felt like I was trying to force down shards of broken glass.

Bright light flashed behind my closed eyelids and then I heard someone gasp, then there were steps hurrying in my direction. It couldn’t have been Master and I couldn’t find the strength to turn around to see who it was. In my weakened state, I couldn’t even manage to curl myself up to protect myself if this person was going to start beating on me.

I heard two deep masculine voices speaking in a different language. I tried to pay attention to what they were saying, but I felt like my head was floating. I couldn’t focus on anything and I just wanted to cry, but no tears would come. The men continued to talk urgently amongst themselves, and I just wanted something to drink. God, I would gladly take whatever they wanted to do to me as long as one of them gave me something to drink.

Ignoring the searing burn in the back of my mouth and my tongue that felt like cotton wool, I tried to make myself heard as I muttered, “mīn fāḍlīkā, mīn fāḍlīkā (please, please) …” My throat wouldn’t let me get the rest of the words out, and I almost cried in relief when a gentle hand landed on my shoulder instead of a painful blow.

Focusing as much as I could, I listened to one of the men’s deep velvet smooth voice bark out a rapid fire set of words that I now recognized the foreign language as English. I taught myself the language when Fatima used to sneak me books about the different places in the world. That was before Mahmood took over as Master’s main servant. Then everything and anything that was pleasant in my life stopped and my punishments got even worse.

Two firm hands gently held onto my shoulders and helped me as I was rolled over. They strong and sure as they helped me to sit up as well. I lowered my head in shame because I was sure that this gentle stranger could smell my filth. I scooted a little further away from him. Even over my stench, I could make out the clean scent of his skin and the expensive cologne that clung to him. He smelt like heaven.

That deep voice rumbled a question at me and I had to concentrate on the words even though he was now speaking my native tongue. The man asked me my name, and I gathered myself again enough to answer him. He muttered a word I didn’t understand and then suddenly I felt his big warm hands on my arm, first one against my wrist and then on the other and even on my ankles too. He was trying to get my leather bindings off and I felt a relief so great I almost tipped over onto the floor. I heard another set of foot steps as someone came running into the room and I cringed, praying it wasn’t that despicable Mahmood trying to stop this kind man from helping me.

The other person spoke after the kind man said my name, and I recognized him as the other voice from earlier. I also heard the word water as keys jingled. Again I felt hands on my wrists but this time the tight leather cuffs fell away and I cried out as the sharp stab of pain throbbed all around the reddened area as the blood flow returned to my digits. It was the same for my feet, but I ignored it. I wanted to see my rescuers but more than that I desperately wanted the water they had. I even forgot to be cautious like Master trained me to be in the off chance that I was in the presence of strangers and against all of my Master’s multiple warnings, I reached up to remove my niqab(veil) from my face.

Blinking rapidly, I impatiently waited until my eyes adjusted to the bright lights in the room. I always hated how bright the bulbs were in here. I know that Master purposely had them that way because he wanted me to feel like I had nowhere to hide while he had his way with me. I just kept hoping and praying that he wasn’t about to come through that door before I could at least get a sip from the dewy water bottle being held in the big hand in front of my face. It was my sole focus at the moment.

The man who had introduced himself as Kamal opened the water and handed it to me. All praises to Allah , I leaned back and tipped the ice cold bottle in my mouth and the first gush of fluids cascaded over my parched tongue and the back of my equally desiccated throat but instead of sweet relief, my traumatized gullet clamped shut and the liquid trickled into the wrong pipe and I started choking and coughing.

A big hand slapped me in the middle of my back a couple of times and I had to grab onto the edge of the flimsy mattress in order not to fall face first onto the cold tiled floor. Kamal took the bottle out of my trembling fingers once I was breathing somewhat normally and he knelt down until he was eye level with me, and oh my sweet heavens. The man was absolutely breathtaking. I allowed my eyes to roam over his beautiful features before the shame of my thoughts and my actions washed over me.

Pushing those thoughts as far as they could go in the back of my mind, I took the much needed sips of water from bottle which was still being held firmly in the man’s huge hand. Once I had enough water to feel satisfied, I scooted away from him. Oh Goodness, Master was right all along. I am a vile wicked creature that Allah has seen fit to punish. I felt my face burning with the shame of looking at this man in a sexual manner. Master had repeatedly beaten me to rid me of those feelings over the years while he rammed himself mercilessly in and out of my abused body. He had been determined to show me how painful the consequences of deviant thoughts could be.

There was another flurry of activity by the door and I dived for my niqab(veil) and tried to put it back on, but again that big hand appeared and stopped me from doing so. This time one man, older than the two in the room entered followed by two women traditionally dressed as I was, but their abaya(robe) and niqab(veil) were made of a lot finer material than the itchy fabric that my attire was made of. The older gentlemen was obviously related to these two gorgeous…I have to stop that. The men carried the older man’s genetics for sure.

Kamal called the woman holding a black leather case over to me and I immediately tried to get up and run. Cases like those never boded well for me. Master used to pull all kinds of torture devices for my punishments out of cases similar to that one. Several pairs of hands pushed me back onto the filthy bed and again my shame knew no bounds, but I struggled anyway using what little fight I had left in my weakened state. Tears of hopelessness pooled in my eyes. I would die for sure if they decided to beat me or torture me. My body wasn’t strong enough to deal with it and the futility of my situation had me crumbling into the abhorrent mattress and I pleaded with them hoping they would take pity on me, “mīn fāḍlīkā, mīn fāḍlīkā (please, please) no.”

Everything and everyone in the room stopped moving including me when a soft but forceful feminine voice demanded that we all be quiet. The woman holding the case had moved away and everyone except Kamal moved away from me as the woman stepped forward. She turned to the older man and spoke to him in English, the older gentleman and the other man who I picked up his name was Farooq quietly left the room. I only caught that they were supposed go and talk to the servants gathered downstairs, and I couldn’t help but to wonder why? I had so many things running through my head, it felt like it was going to explode.

I was studiously trying to ignore the man at my side telling myself over and over again that I was not a vile creature, that I didn’t feel anything other than gratitude towards him for helping me. That I didn’t get a fresh whiff of his cologne as he made room for the woman to kneel down and look me in the face. I was so shocked by her forward actions that I froze right where I lay and my mind went blessfully blank. A woman not related to man wouldn’t look him in the eye, but this woman did and even with her niqab(veil) in place, I saw nothing but compassion in her beautiful hazel eyes and I was the one lowering my gaze as a lump of emotion formed in the back of my throat.

“As-salamu alaykum(Peace be onto you).” She greeted me and I just barely nodded my head at her. I feared speaking to her just in case her men took offense and decided to beat me after all.

I jumped when she gently ran a finger over the raw abrasions encircling my wrist. I quickly drew my hand back and hid it under my sleeve as I scooted even farther away from them. I didn’t stop until my spine hit the wall behind me and I had nowhere else left to go. I was trapped and I knew it, so I tried my best to calm my racing heart as I peeked up from under the fringes of my hair at the two people left in my room.

Kamal supported the woman as she sat on the floor in front of my bed, the other woman was leaning against the far wall with her case in hand, and Kamal sat down next to the woman as she unwound her veil from her face. I gasped at her forwardness yet again and lowered my eyes, not before I noticed that the high cut of her cheekbones perfectly matched those of the man sitting next to her. She was just as stunning as he was but older so I am assuming she was his parent. There was something else in her features that was familiar to me but I couldn’t place what it was. That was until she began talking to me, explaining who they were. It dawned on me that this woman eyes were the same exotic shade of brownish gold as my Master’s eyes. That was were the similarities ended. Her gaze was kind, but Master’s was always cold and filled with disgust whenever they landed on me.

I sat there in complete shock as she explained that she was Master’s daughter, and that the man sitting next to her was her son, Kamal. The other young man with him her other son, Farooq and the woman with the case was her daughter Yasmin, who just graduated Medical school and she was here to see to my injuries. Then she answered the most pertinent question I had but was afraid to ask. I learned that my Master was dead. He had a heart attack over a week ago that’s why he hasn’t been here.

I immediately surmised that Mahmood most likely left me here to die. He never approved of me and thought that I used my evil beauty to seduce our Master into becoming a deviant sodomite. He used to spew those obscenities at me when Master was away from the house and I used to be scared to eat anything that he brought me just in case he did something to my food like he always threatened to.

I wonder what the house man was going to tell these good people about me when they questioned him and that’s when I decided to answer her quietly asked questions. After a few more sips of water I began to tell my tale and the more I revealed was the paler they seemed to get. I stopped talking when Kamal barked that word I didn’t understand again and he shot to his feet and purposefully stomped towards the door, but his mother called his name and told him to remain in the room for my comfort.

The woman was sharp, she must have read the distress clearly on my face when the other man went to leave me alone in the room with the women. It wasn’t normal protocol, but I was quickly finding out that the El-Sayed family did not follow the normal rules at all when they were in private.

She was about to say something else when the older gentleman walked in, the man I presumed as her husband. I couldn’t help the whimper that escaped my throat at his fierce facial expression. The man was practically vibrating with fury. He barked out orders and startled everyone in the room including me. The only thing I caught in his rapid fire words was the fact that I was not to remain another night under this accursed roof.

Before I could even blink, I found myself wrapped in a soft thick blanket and swept up as if weighed absolutely nothing by Kamal. He carried out of the four walled room that I have been trapped in for…I can’t even recall how long I have been stuck in that room. I tried my best not to shame myself anymore than I already have by focusing on where we were going rather than the feel of that hard body pressed firmly against my swaddled one. I still felt his heat wrapped up as I was, and I swear I was getting dizzy from his intoxicating scent. It swirled around me like a security blanket.

Closing my eyes, I mentally shook myself away from those disturbing thoughts yet again. They were wrong, they were the thoughts the Devil was using to infect my soul. Master had been amandant about that one lesson. Having feelings for a man as you should only feel for a woman is a sin and Allah will cause you immeasurable pain. That I can attest to first hand because Master made sure to show me just how painful it is to try to consummate with a man what he should with a woman.

I turned my head away from Kamal as he gently loaded me into the backseat of a very pretty automobile. His father stopped long enough to lean in to tell me that they were taking me to their home and that I may shower and rest for as long as I want. That I was safe and under the protection of the El-Sayed family.

I bowed my head and quietly whispered, “shukran jazīlan(thank you.) I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t have anyone to turn to or anywhere else to go and seek help. To his son, the elder El-Sayed informed Kamal that he was going to stay behind and deal the servants and that Kamal was to accompany me to their home and make sure I was properly cared for. The younger man gave his promise before sliding his tall frame into the vehicle and sat on the wide seat opposite of me.

Kamal’s mother and his sister then slipped into the car beside Kamal and we were off. I closed my eyes and thanked Allah for this seemingly good fortune. I prayed that the El-Sayed’s kindness will hold out until I could figure out what to do with myself. Master was gone and I am able to breathe freely once again for the first time in a very long time.

I felt the wave of absolute relief barreling through me and I quickly turned my face into the folds of my sleeve, and I quietly let all those pent up emotions, the pain, the humiliation, the degradation and the sheer exhaustion of my time at Master’s mercy pour out of me like madly churning river. I purged him from my system and my life once and for all., thanks be to Allah.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Kamal…

(The stunning Leila Hatami as my idea of Kamal’s mother)

I was experiencing a myriad of emotions as I whisked away from that house of horrors sitting in the back seat of my father’s limousine. Rage, betrayal, and unimaginable resentment towards my deceased grandfather, pity for my broken hearted mother, and wealth of concern and undefined feelings for Jameel were boiling through the very blood in my veins all at once.

It had taken several well meaning looks from Yasmin and the fact that Jameel had nervously folded in on himself that kept me calm. The gorgeous little cutie had managed to make himself as small as possible as he huddled under the folds of the blanket in the very far corner of the car’s plush backseat. My mother kept glancing at me with sympathy and pleading shining in her eyes.

I couldn’t even open my mouth to reassure her that I was fine even after being dealt yet another blow by the insipid bastard that was her father. I knew that if I spoke to her right now, the fury that I was battling would prevent me from censoring my words and the tone in which I would speak to her. She had loved her father despite the fact that he was such an self righteous asshole to the rest of us.

The El-Sayed men have managed to keep her feelings from being hurt over the years. We have never made her aware of all the vicious words or the spiteful behavior he had generously splurged on us. We all spared her feelings and helped her keep her rose colored lenses on when it came to her parent.

Now, looking at her with the look of shame and disappointment written all over her features, I could understand why my father was so amandant to keep her unaware of the true essence of the man that her father was. I am sure that not even my father’s coddling or his overprotectiveness is going to conceal the enormity of what the old bastard had done to Jameel.

I felt bad for her, grandfather’s staggering depravity is slowly coming to light and many of the illusions that she’s held onto in regards to the deceased man is going to shatter and blow away on the wind like the smoke screen that made up the deceitful, hypocritical son of a bitch’s true nature.

I felt Jameel shift closer towards me as the car turned into the long winding cobbled drive of my family’s estate home. My heart warmed that he unconsciously sought me out even after what has been done to him. If this poor darling had turned out to fear every male that came into contact or even speaking range of him after what he has endured, I wouldn’t have blamed him in the least for his fear and mistrust.

Even with my churning emotions swirling and fighting for dominance in my head. I couldn’t help but to be in awe of this young man and surviving his ordeal admitted from his own mouth, and the unimaginable atrocities he has suffered over the years. From the information I was receiving via text messages from Farooq, he and my father were pulling from the remaining staff at the old man’s house and if my math was correct, the old tyrant signed and became Jameel’s guardian when was six years old.

The young man’s mother had unfortunately passed away from a severe case of pneumonia. She had come from parts unknown and was in grandfather’s service for years before her husband, a man who had also been an employee in the household was beaten to death by an angry mob. He was accused by a young girl in a neighboring household of attempted rape.

No one could tell if the accusation against the man had been true or not, but that was the nature of this country. Angry self righteous men piteously claiming that they were carrying out Allah’s will and who are more than willing to beat you until you are dead for breaking Allah’s laws. It didn’t matter if the issue was a minor infraction or a severe and blatant act of disregard against the teachings of the Quran.

Yasmin’s gentle hand on my shoulder had me unclenching my white knuckled fists. I had read the texts that Farooq had sent me and my blood boiled even hotter. My mother must have guessed that the situation had declined even more and now she was refusing to even look at me. I was going to have to calm down enough to speak with her and soothe her nerves, but right now this beautiful man beside garnered all of my attention. I put a gentle hand to stop him from trying to exit the car on his own, and he turned those big brown eyes full of uncertainty towards me and his slender shoulders slumped and he looked down.

“Oh Master Kamal, let me help you.” Mohammed, one of our loyal house servants uttered as he rushed down the front steps towards us.

Two things happened at once, Jamal squeaked in fear of the unknown man rushing towards him and hurriedly pulled his niqab(veil) over his head, and quickly scurried back into the interior of the car. Hamid came rushing out and snapped at Mohammed to take care and not to frighten our guest, but it was already too late for the warning.

Mohammed stopped dead in his tracks and dropped to his knees in apology having already witnessing Jameel’s reaction to his actions. I figured Father must have alerted Hamid to prepare the household for our arrival, but Mohammed was always an excitable fellow, eager to please, especially when the rarity of entire family being in residence at one time occurs.

“Astaghfirullah.( may Allah forgive me… )” Mohammed began to apologize but I waved him off.

Mother rushed around the front of the car and stopped next to my elbow and fidgeted, unsure of what she was do about Jameel’s current state of distress. I called Yasmin over and had her take control of our concerned mother. I watched briefly as she escorted her into the house. Hamid had long since instructed Mohammed rise from his position on the ground and to go back into the house to make sure that a guest room and bath was prepared for our guest. When he came back to assist me, I waved him away too, and after lifting an inquiring brow at me I flipped him off and he smirked at me before leisurely sauntering back up the steps and into the house.

Our driver was still holding the door open and trying to be as unobtrusive as possible by standing behind the door and out of Jameel’s line of vision should he ever unbundle himself from under the bulky blanket. I had to swallow my fury all over again as I slipped into the car and watched the swath of material move and curl even into a tighter ball. If that old bastard was alive, I would have killed him with my bare hands for what he has done to this gorgeous man.

Jameel is beautiful young man, I wasn’t sure about his sexual orientation and whether he was gay or not, he never deserved to be used the way he was. I wondered if he will ever be able to overcome what had been done to him. I wondered if any of us will ever be able to atone for the sins that the old man has committed against the innocent young man. I can only hope and pray that we can get him all the help he needs to move on from this.

According to Jameel, the abuse started when he was thirteen years old, young enough to believe everything the Master of the house told him. The old hypocrite had dragged the boy from his duties in the kitchen and over time made him into his concubine and beating stick. He took out all his feelings of lust on the boy and then beat the boy like he was the cause of his debasement.I had to blink a few times to clear my eyes of the hurtful tears that gathered there.

I sat there and waited until Jameel calmed down enough to be able to hear and understand me. As I waited my mind went back to the day grandfather had stood in the middle of my own home and cursed me for the sodomite that I am, he spat at my feet and told me that I was going to Hell, that Allah would never favor me for anything and everything I touched would fail. The look of pure hatred on the man’s face and cut me to the quick. My brother’s and not even my mother could contain my father and I saw my father hit someone for the first and only time in my life.

That was the beginning of the end for my mother, after that day I believe her rose colored lenses began to lose it’s color, and with the discovery of Jameel and the awful truth that is forcing it’s way into the light was enough to shatter those lenses all together for her.

A brisk breeze rolling in from the cooling temperatures of the desert blew through the open car doors and I broke out of my revere. I needed to get Jameel inside. He needed a warm cleansing bath, medical treatment, and a hot meal.

I reached out and carefully placed a gentle hand on what I hoped was his shoulder and gave him a soft pat. He jumped and I let him know that it was me and we were the only ones out here. I watched his little head pop up from underneath the folds of his blanket and he lifted part of his veil to look around to make sure we were alone.

“Jameel, ta’ala(come.) I said as I held out my hand to him hoping and praying he trusted me enough to come to me and not panic as I helped him into the house.

The little beauty studied my hand for a minute and then he slowly sat up. I heard his little gasp and it killed me to stay where I was and let him come to me on his own accord. I feared I’d scare him if I acted on impulse and scooped him up like I severely wanted to and cuddle him close as I made sure he got all of his needs taken care of.

Jameel placed his little trembling hand in mine and I slowly eased myself across the seat bringing him with me. I stepped out of the door refusing to let go of him and he went to get up but I leaned in and picked up his slight frame, blankets and all.

“Arjuu almaadhira (I’m sorry.)” He whispered in his small quiet voice. I barely heard him as I carried him up the steps and into our home. I had to come to a complete stop in the foyer and reassure him that there is absolutely nothing that he has done that he ever needs to be sorry for, and my precious cargo nodded his head once and I continued my journey to the guest rooms are located in the house.

God bless Hamid, at least he was good for something. I ran into absolutely no one in my journey across the house. By the time I got to the room with light spilling out of the doorway, Yasmin was inside and waiting for us. She had removed her veil and she smiled openly at Jameel. I gently eased him onto the big bed and when I went to move away from him, his little hands quickly grabbed one of my wrists.

La ttrokny (Don’t leave me.) He pleaded and I hear the panic his his quivering voice, “min faDlik (please.)” He pleaded and I tried to make my smile and encouraging as I possibly could.

I patted his clenched fingers with my free hand and I sat down next to him. He slowly let my wrist go and I reached up and removed his veil. Those pretty chocolate eyes blinked up at me before they nervously flickered towards my very curious sister then back to me again. It was like he was sending me a silent message, asking me if it was alright to speak to the woman in the room? If it was alright for him to see her without her traditional niqab(veil) in place? Something that a male outside of the family circle would never even attempt to do.

“Anaa afham tamaaman (I understand perfectly.)” I told him and Yasmin came to stand closer to me and I explained to Jameel that she is a trained physician and that I felt he would be more comfortable with a woman seeing to his injuries in the privacy of our home. I also explained to him that he is not just an honored guest but a part of this family despite the unimaginable things that our paternal grandparent has done to him. I went to apologize on the behalf of my family, but he stopped me and shook his head.

He quietly stated that we didn’t know, no one but my grandfather and his servant knew the entire situation and that he didn’t blame any of us. He looked to Yasmin and just as quietly conveyed his thanks and gave his permission to examine him. My heart fluttered yet again, and my mind boggled at the strength that Jameel exhibited. I sat quietly by his side and gave him all the support I could give as he began the verbal part of his examination.

Yasmin then stepped in and began asking him questions about his health and his medical history. Jameel kept his gaze down as he quietly answered her, but he still held onto my fingers as if he was afraid that I would disappear. My heart was being severely taxed tonight by this pretty little thing, and I swore right then and there I would do everything that I can to right this wrong and make sure this little beauty found his happiness in the world, even if I have to take him out of this environment to achieve it.

He needed to see for himself that all the filth that he was made to believe is just the fanatical brain washings of a deeply disturbed human being. Jameel needed to see that he is so much more than someone’s dirty little secret. I was going to have to consult with my father and maybe after Yasmin’s physical examination, we can find out the who the best psychiatrist there is to handle his sort of abuse.

Fuck the old man’s estate, if I could I could I would burn it all to the very ground. Hamid can stay behind and handle the rest of the old man’s affairs. I refuse to do it no matter what my parents have to say. After this, it’s too much to ask of me..

My sole purpose in life is now making sure that this quiet little beauty is given every opportunity to heal both mentally and physically from his ordeal. My attraction towards him can wait, it was the very last thing Jameel needed to deal with. He is scared and alone, but he has placed some trust in me so far and I for one refused to let his little bit if faith in me be misplaced.

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Jameel…

(Guest bedroom in El-Sayed home)

My heart was pounding so hard in my chest, I was sure that Kamal and his sister could hear it. The organ felt like it was going to come crashing through my breast bone at any moment. Embarassed, small, unworthy, and insignificant weren’t close enough to describe how I was feeling.

Even wrapped in about quilt, I didn’t even want to sit on the jeweled silk comforter covering the massive bed the siblings led me to.

Kamal had spent quite some time trying to reassure me that it was indeed alright to speak directly to his sister. So I had taken a deep breath before quietly answering her questions about my health the best that I could. When the verbal part of her questioning came to the physical aspects of my injuries, I once again looked towards Kamal and although his strong jaw was tightly clenched he nodded his head for me to continue.

It was extremely hard for me to speak about the private areas of my body to a woman. I didn’t know if Yasmin was a married woman or not, but I guess as an educated woman and a physician, she is surely more knowledgeable than I was about these things, even if it’s only textbook knowledge.

Again, my anxiety levels spiked and I shamefully lowered my eyes as I disclosed all the things Master had done to me over the years, and all the implements he had used to dole out my multiple punishments for my transgressions of the flesh, he had exclaimed. I explained how Master would leave me covered in my own blood, sweat, and his fluids until he chose to punish me again. He would then have Mahmood come and clean me inside and out, and the sadistic servant took pleasure in being as rough about it as he could be.

I had gotten to the part of my explanation of Mahmood’s method of treatment for my open wounds and skin tears was to pour alcohol directly into the ripped flesh when I jumped and automatically reached for my veil. Kamal had suddenly surged to his feet and he quickly walked across the room. His stopped in front of the enormous window. His back was ramrod straight and his fists were clenched at his sides.

Another wave of shame washed over me, I had just met this man a few hours ago, and for some reason I felt like I couldn’t cope or breathe unless he was close to me. It didn’t matter to me that Kamal is the grandson of the man who turned me into the simpering broken mess that I am today.

Now he was upset on my behalf and I felt like he is wasting his energy to care about what has happened to me. Master had only proved how worthless I am and how utterly sinful and depraved I am for harbouring feelings of attraction for other men. It was a painful lesson to learn, but I had learned it, and I refuse for this good man to feel sorry for me.

Maybe I was reading too much into it? Maybe Kamal was just concerned about public learning about his grandfather having sex with another man, even if he used it to show me just how wrong sex between men are. Master had torn me to shreds each and every time he entered my body. He made sure to tell me that my hole is never meant to take cock the way it did and that made me the devil’s spawn.

Kamal’s sorrow wouldn’t erase or cure the deviant that I am, or the lessons that Master had drilled into me over and over again. I can’t remember a tie I didn’t hear that hateful raspy voice cursing me for being a waste of Allah’s infinite grace.

Yasmin’s voice broke through my internal ramblings and my head shot up when she told me that she needed to examine my body for injuries or signs of infection. I drew back from her and my anxiety level spiked all over again, but this time it was to epic proportions as I recalled the exact state of my appearance at the moment.

It wasn’t just about the rancid smell, it was also about the fact that I was so filthy from head to toe. My stomach knotted when I thought about all the ugly scars crisscrossing my skin from my neck to my ankles. Master’s chosen weapon for correcting my transgressions was a thick leather whip. He would gleefully use it on me until my flesh as sliced open, dripping blood, and raw for weeks afterwards.

“Jameel, I am sorry, but I think it’s best that we take a look to make sure that you are healing properly after your latest ordeal. If you are worried about your modesty or being left alone with me, don’t. Kamal is going to be right here throughout the entire exam. As a matter of fact, you can get under the covers and reveal only the parts I’m going to examine as needed.” Yasmin coaxed with a small encouraging smile. Little did she know that I was more concerned about Kamal seeing my damaged and disgusting body over her seeing it.

I looked over in Kamal’s direction and he had turned his tall frame around to face me. He seemed a little more relaxed and for that, I was glad, but right about now, I wanted to ground to open up and eat me alive. I really didn’t want either of them looking at me, but what choice did I have. What if something wasn’t healing right or worse yet, the welts on my back were infected from lying in my own filth for days?

“Um…C…Can I bathe first, please.” I whispered and prayed to whatever Deity out there that didn’t see me as an abomination. Master said Allah would never favor a reprobate like me, so I didn’t even bother attempt to call out to him.

‘Of course, oh my Gosh. I should have offered you a bath the minute you set foot inside the house. Oh you poor baby.” Yasmin suddenly declared and rushed towards the bedroom door. Alarmed, I looked towards Kamal and he just shrugged his wide shoulders with a playful little smile curving those awe inspiring lips.

I felt my face get hot, and I ducked my head to hide my bright red cheeks and my my brazen thoughts from the intensely observant man. My head soon snapped up though, because all of a sudden, there was a whole lot of activity going on in the room. Yasmin and two other women came bustling back through the bedroom door. They were followed by the older house servant that had scared me earlier.

This time his arms were piled high with what looked like big fluffy white towels and maybe a clothes. He didn’t even look in my direction as he made a clear path to what I assumed was the bathroom. I wasn’t too sure because all three women descended on me. My eyes went wide and my stomach flipped over but I remained where I was for the main fact that Kamal didn’t seem too concerned as he smiled indulgently at the scene before him. If he was so relaxed then he must be comfortable with these women.

I still jumped a little when Yasmin placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I dared to peek up at her from under my lashes. I was just stumped and confused by their forwardness. I didn’t know how to react to these women. They were so much more open, vibrant, and relaxed with me, a virtual male stranger, rather than acting traditionally reserved and meek.

“Jameel, let me introduce you to my sisters Farrah.” She stated as she pointed to the tallest of the three gorgeous women, “and this is Nasim, one of the youngest siblings next to Kamal over there.” She introduced the ladies and I took a quick peek up at them and gosh, the gene pool in this family is spectacular. Those prominent cheek bones seemed to be the common feature amongst the El-Sayed children. They were all stunning to look at.

I was just beginning to relax and to show my gratitude to the kind ladies; I actually attempted to give them a grateful little smile and that was when everything went south for me.

My heart almost collapsed in my chest when Farrah let out a high pitched inhuman squeal. She rushed towards me and that had me longing for the sanctuary of hiding behind my veil. My irrational nerves took flight and I quickly scrambled backwards across the silk covered mattress. I landed in a painful and inelegant heap on the other side of the bed.

Other than my blood rushing through my ears, I heard nothing but absolute silence in the room. I chanced a glance from underneath the black cotton of my niqab(veil) to see what was going on, and everyone was standing stock still looking at me. My pulse was still racing, but it soon began to dawn on me that I had majorly overreacted to Farrah’s enthusiasm.

“Oh Jameel, I am so sorry. I just think that you’re so adorable, especially when you smile like that. I was only going to pinch your cheeks. I didn’t mean to scare you…”

Her words were cut short by a deep baritone barking out the command, “ib’d (go away)!” Kamal came sauntering over as he impatiently waved his babbling sister out of the way.

I watched Farrah stick out her tongue at her brother before giving me a little wave. Nasim made a crude gesture with her finger at her brother before they both let the room, and my shocked eyebrows nearly disappeared into my hairline. Never have I witnessed a woman acting so bold with the men of their household, but I must admit that for the short time I have observed these siblings, they seem to be really close to each other.

My shoulders promptly slumped yet again as dejection seized me. What did I know about anything? I had no family to create any dynamics with. All I can remember is Master and his excruciating and repeated lessons. Releasing a sigh, I tried my best to shake off my melancholy before I slipped too far into my head. Kamal sat on the bed next to where I was still kneeling on the floor, and I gladly welcomed the distraction he simply provided by breathing.

“Ta’ala ma’ee(come with me.)” He said as he held out his big hand and raised a challenging brow at me.

“I’m going straight to Hell and burn for all eternity.” I thought as I studied Kamal’s face from the semi security of my veil. This man was the thing that dreams were made of and if it’s sinful for me to think that, then I’ll just add it to my list of transgressions.

Biting the bullet, I tentatively reached out and placed my much smaller hand in his and I shivered at the heat of his touch. Kamal helped me stand and my knees wobbled for a bit before I was able to lock them in place. I don’t think my exhausted mind and body could endure being in Kamal’s arms again and hold off on shamelessly burying myself in his intoxicating scent, and the delicious heat coming off that big hard body.

He slowly led me across the room and under another archway. We passed through another door and I caught sight of a bathroom that could probably rival something in a magazine or something. The house man was turning several faucets in the gigantic tub and billows of steam floated over the fragrant water.

The thought of sinking myself into all that warm water and letting the silky heat wash away all the grime and the last of Master’s filth from my body was enough to have hot tears pooling behind my eyes. I turned to Kamal but his attention was on the slender arm reaching through the crack in the bathroom door and waving a bottle at the occupants in the room.

It was almost funny to watch as Kamal let out an exasperated breath before stalked back over to the door. He ushered his servant through it while taking the bottle from his sister. He stood there for a minute and listened to her instruct him what to do with it and then he firmly closed the door.

Kamal came back to my side and patiently explained that the bottle contained an antiseptic medicine that will go right into my bathwater to help disinfect and heal any external cut or scrapes that I may have.

He went on to explain that he’ll turn around and respect my privacy as I got undressed and settle myself into the tub. Then, he went to pour the medicine into the water and he turned on the faucet again and poured another small container into the water and a big grin split my face as a mass of bubbles began to form over the surface of my bath and I found myself getting eager to strip off and dive into that tub.

True to his word, Kamal sequestered himself into the far corner of the room, and he kept his back to me as I quickly shuffled out of my soiled robes and literally submerged myself in the warm cleansing bath. Not even the sting of the antiseptic on the places my skin was broken and scabbed over prevented me from fully enjoying the feeling of finally being able to get clean.

I dunked my entire body under the water and when I came back up splattering but happier than I can ever remember being in a long time. Kamal was sitting on the edge of the tub smiling down at me, and I couldn’t help myself but I just beamed right back at him. He handed me a soft washcloth and pointed out the assortment of shampoos and soaps lined up on a shelf within arms reach of where I was sitting.

He got up as I was making my selection from the multiple scents of soap. I chose the soothing scent of lavender and began to scrub myself from head to toe. I sighed as I washed my hair and I was so thrilled, I dunked myself and repeated the entire process all over again.

I would’ve stayed there all night if it wasn’t for the fact that the water was getting cold and after removing all that, I needed a quick rinse from the overhead shower to finish up my little bit of heaven. I looked up and Kamal must have read my mind because he toggled with the faucets and I was cascaded with drops of water. A happy giggle escaped my mouth as I looked up to see that the entire ceiling over the tub was literally raining on me.

I forgot myself and hopped up to my feet as Kamal opened the drain of the tub and my joy was short lived when I heard his surprised hiss, and I immediately froze where I stood under the sheets of water.

“Oh God.” He whispered as he stepped forward with his eyes glued to my decimated body. I was too shocked by the the sheer look of fury on his face. I went to cover myself and sink back into the tub, but Kamal arms shot out and he gently held both my wrists in one of his hands.

He reached out with his other hand and I watched his fingers tremble before he traced one of the ragged scars that slashed across his side and over my stomach. One of the many many gashes from Master’s spiked tip floggers. I morbidly wondered what his reaction would be if I turned around and he got a gander of my back.

“Don’t cry for me, this was my punishment for desiring men. Master made me atone for my sins.” I whispered in hopes of making him feel better. I didn’t want the image of his grandfather sullied for his remaining family. I was about to say something else when I was suddenly hauled out of the tub, wrapped up tight in a huge fluffy robe, and unceremoniously lifted off my feet and carried back into the room.

Yasmin scurried out of her determined brother’s way as he made a beeline for the massive bed. Even in the grip of his strong emotions, he carefully laid me on the soft bedding as if he was putting a newborn baby down for a nap. He drew the covers over me all the way up to my chin and held them there.

His gorgeous golden brown gaze captured mine and I was held completely enthralled by the intensity of his emotions swirling around those hypnotic orbs. The next words out of his mouth shocked and confused me to the core of my being.

“What that man did to you was not punishment, it was outright and blatant abuse. You did absolutely nothing to deserve the atrocities that old depraved bastard heaped on you and if he wasn’t already dead, I would have gladly taken his life and spit in the Devil’s face myself.” He swirled away from me and demanded his sister to examine me.

I didn’t know what to think and I didn’t know what to say as Yasmin rushed forward and gently explained what she was doing as she uncovered one part of my body or the other. My entire focus was on the man standing by the window. It was like he was trying to hold himself together with his rigid back facing the room.

I closed my eyes and I tuned out Yasmin’s warm fingers as she examined me from head to toe. My muddled thoughts started to flicker in and out and I was just plain tired. Too exhausted to figure out his words or even try to. I was too tired to feel anything at all about Kamal seeing the imperfection of my horrendous body. I let my eye flutter until they closed completely, sure that I will be able to understand everything better in the morning once I could think straight again.

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

(Jean Dujardin as my idea of Kamal’s Father)

Kamal…

It was only by the sheer force of will and the fact that my father had sent Hamid to summon me to his in home office that I left Jameel’s side after he fell into an exhausted slumber. I unclenched my jaw and tried to relax my tense muscles, but coming to terms with this level of violence against another human being made it seem like it was a lost cause. Nothing could have ever prepared me to deal with what was done to Jameel. My rage at the man knew no bounds, the same sadistic bastard that had spent the greater part of my young life cursing me for being gay only to turn around and abuse and serially rape an innocent young man locked up in his home like a personal pet.

I had to stop right there in the middle of the hallway as my anger flared into a burning inferno, my skin prickled and hot burning, resentful tears poured out of my eyes. Hamid realized that I was no longer following him and he turned and took one look at my face and immediately his face softened and he tried to approach me, but I held up a shaking hand and shook my head at him. My emotions were way out of my control and I just needed a minute to gather myself, but fuck, how am I supposed to do that. That fucking hypocrite, if I never before believed that there was a God, I believed it now, because the good Lord saw fit to take that son of a bitch from this mortal plane. Otherwise, had I found out about Jameel and that fucktard was still alive, I would have murdered the man.

That thought scared the shit out of me, because I know that I am completely serious on the matter. I would have had no qualms, no regret, and absolutely no guilt whatsoever about taking the old tyrant’s life as punishment for his crimes against that beautiful man.

“Kamal, little brother. I understand…You…”

“No, Hamid, no…Don’t you dare say that you understand my anger and that you understand what I am feeling. You don’t, Farooq certainly can’t, and neither does any other heterosexual man in this family.” I interrupted Hamid’s attempt of trying to calm my raging temper.

“You didn’t have to sit there and listen to that man tell you that you are nothing, that you are a reject and a disgrace. You have no clue what it was like to live in fear of leaving your own house on a daily basis and wonder if this is the day that an angry mob of your own grandfather’s associates are going to beat you to death for being an abomination to Allah. God Dammit!” I screamed on top of my lungs. The growing need to hit something intensified and the overwhelming desire to vent this poisonous haze of unadulterated fury momentarily over pyowered me. My hand curled into a tight fist and I lashed out at the first thing that I saw.

Sorry to say it was my mother’s Daum Crystal Kumara Vase that fell victim to my angst. The sound of the heavy crystal shattering and raining it’s jagged shards across the marble floor like a million twinkling tear drops echoed throughout the house like a gunshot. I stood there shaking like a leaf as the last pieces of glass skittered across the floor. It took a minute for the unrelenting haze that had prompted my irrational actions cleared from my brain enough for me draw in a ragged breath. I shamefully looked up into the shocked face of my brother, and what made my behavior feel even more deplorable was that just beyond his shoulder, our mother was standing further down hallway with a hand over her heart and a haunted expression on her face.

I went to open my mouth to say something, but she gave me a wobbly smile and turned away to return to whatever room she had come out of.
Damn, and double damn, this is the second time I have managed to literally rip my mother’s ideals of her father to shreds, and again, I wasn’t too sure if I truly cared because there was a severely abused young man almost comatose from exhaustion, malnutrition, mental, and physical injustices of the worst kind in another room at the opposite end of the hallway.

No sooner had my mother retreated did my father appeared outside the doors to his study. He pointed a finger right at me, and damn if I didn’t feel his angry eyes burning holes right into the middle of my burning face.
”Asre’ (Hurry up!)” He barked out as he motioned for us to get a move on. Hamid and I wasted no time as we quickly made our way towards his office. A serving girl timidly sidestepped us on her way to clean up the mess that I made and I grimaced at the twinge of guilt that swamped me.

We skirted around our irate parent and immediately found a seat in front of his massive desk. Farooq was already seated and waiting on us as well. I heard the whisper of silk moving and I was surprised to see that all of my other siblings except for Yasmin, who was still monitoring Jameel was in attendance.

My father imperiously took his place behind his desk and his dark eyes assessed each one of us before his gaze ultimately settled onto me. “First and foremost, I gathered you all in here to discuss the recent developments in this family. I do not need to tell you that I do not want your mother hurt more than she already has been by this entire situation with her father and the injustices he fostered on that poor young man. We all are going to put in the time, the effort, and the kindness I have raised you to believe in to help this young man heal and go on to live his life.”

I watched out of the corner of my eyes as my all nodded their heads in agreement with our father and a rush of warmth washed over me. I was truly blessed to have the family that I have, and I was sorry I blew up on my brother that way, but again. They would never truly understand how deep that man cut me, and how traumatizing it was as his viscous words shredded my very soul. As a young man growing up struggling to fit into an environment where there was no room, no tolerance, and sheer fanatical ignorance, my own grandfather had almost destroyed me.

My father gave us one more hard glare making sure that his decree was cemented into our psyche. Then he launched into an explanation of what he and Farooq had learned from the servants in our grandfather’s home. It was just like Jameel had described, the regular house servants who were aware that Jameel was locked up in the very same room as the depraved old asshole had tearfully confessed that they kept his secret in order to keep their employment. I already heard Jameel’s version, but hearing how callously the servants treated him on top being used like a personal prostitute and punching bag for an untold amount of years made my father fire the entire lot of them immediately. Personally it pissed me off that they got off so easily, but then again it will be hard for them to get another job in any affluent household after being terminated from ours without a letter of reference.

I was grinding my teeth so hard, my jaw hurt. “Can we please stop rehashing what was done to him. We need to focus on what to do to help him.” I snapped at everyone in the room. Just as he didn’t want my mother’s nose to constantly be rubbed in the her father’s transgressions, Jameel shouldn’t be made to feel less than a man because of his abuse. He needed to learn normalcy and the sooner we begin the less awkward he may feel in his new surroundings.

“All of you may be excused. Kamal you stay behind please, I would like to talk to you for a minute ibn (son).”
My brothers and sisters quietly left the room and Farooq closed the study door behind himself on his way out. I sat there and prepared myself for the scolding that I was sure was coming about upsetting Mama, and not just once but twice in the last 72 hours.

“Ibni (my son,) kaifa haloka (how are you?)” He asked me instead and my head snapped up to see the man that was my father. The man that has accepted me and loved me no matter what looking at me with so much tenderness in his eyes, and I felt tears pooling in my eyes as my fluctuating emotions once again grabbed a hold of me.

“Ana bekhar, shokran (I’m fine, thanks.) I replied knowing full well that I was less than fine, but I didn’t want him or my mother to have add my feelings and how badly this entire situation was affecting me to their worries right now as well. It wasn’t just the unimaginable depravities foisted upon the unsuspecting young man down the hall. It was the total lie, the hateful acts, and hypocrisy of the man that had set my blood boiling out of control. The multiple sins and laws he broken while damning me and trying to tear me to pieces inside my own mind. The level of evilness that lived inside that son of bitch was just incomprehensible to me.

Right now, I didn’t even want to understand what drove the old fucker to be the way he was, or do what he had done to me and to Jamal. All I wanted right now more than anything else was to make the world alright for that beautiful boy. Even with all the abuse, he still survived. There was something so guileless and so innocent in those wide chocolate eyes of his. There was just something driving me to protect him with every fiber of my being, and I found the intensity of my feelings towards Jameel so strange because it’s only been a matter of hours since he came into my life, well close to a whole day since I was fortunate enough to find him.

My father sighed heavily and brought my attention back to him. I looked at my father and I saw all of us, or I should say I see all of his features reflected in my siblings and I. My father’s a very distinguished gentleman. He wore designer suits made to fit his tall muscular frame to perfection. His salt and pepper hair and his beard just made him even more debonair. There is an undisputed air of pure Alpha male surrounding him that just made you undoubtedly aware of exactly who was in charge at all times. I can only hope to carry off my own aging process just as elegantly as he is does.

“I know that you are lying through your teeth, but I forgive you because I know why you are stretching the truth. You are a good boy and you always have been. I can’t even try to begin to understand how you feel about this distasteful situation. That man was so full of himself and his own self importance. Karma has caught up to him and I hope he is eternally paying his pennants for his actions in the fires of Hell.” He worked an eyebrow and continued, “now if you repeat any of what I just said to your mother, you will be joining the old bastard in the after life.”

His amused grin made his dimples pop out across his cheeks the expression softened his threat. These feelings of love and security is what he wanted to teach Jameel about. It was now about getting the young man to trust others, but more importantly getting him to trust and love himself enough for him to see that deserves such blessings.

My work was going to be cut out for me after all the poison he was lead to believe, but I am not going to give up on that little beauty. Jameel is someone special, and he is meant to be the ray of sunshine he has the potential to be, and I need to make sure he knows it as well.

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Jameel…

(Sinfully Sexy Kamal)

I have been awake for a while now and I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had no clue where to go or who to talk to and I desperately wished that Kamal was here to help me, I felt safer and comforted when he is here with me. I hung my head in defeat because I shouldn’t even be harboring any thoughts about the man. Especially whimsically wishing he was at my side to take care of me.

My overextended bladder spasmed and made its need to be relieved known. I stuck my head out from underneath the pile of blankets I had burrowed under during the night and cautiously peeked around the elegantly decorated bedroom. This new found sense of peace and freedom still felt unreal to me, like I was in a wonderful dream or something. I was very afraid that Mahmood was going to come bursting through my new found freedom with his hateful words and bruising fists. I still couldn’t believe that Master and all his punishments was gone for good as well.

Climbing out from underneath of the mountain of covers and the warmth they provided, I sat on the side of the bed and adjusted the oversized fluffy white robe I was wearing the best I could around my skinny frame before pushing myself up onto my feet. I tracked my way back to the ensuite bathroom I had taken such a delightful bath in the night before. I relieved myself while looking longingly at the massive tub. I was tempted to take another deliciously warm bubble bath, but I wanted to wait for Kamal first before I did anything else.

I flushed the toilet and walked over to the sink and washed my hands. I saw a new toothbrush along with a brush and a comb sitting in a neat pile of personal toiletries. Reaching over, I picked up the toothbrush and slowly unwrapped it. I ran my thumb over the soft bristles of the toothbrush and I slowly raised my eyes to the gigantic mirror in front of me and I really looked at my reflection for the first time in God knows how long.

My throat constricted and I choked on a heart wrenching sob. The last time I saw myself in a mirror I was barely a teenager. I was shocked to see this broken disheveled young man staring back at me. My current appearance made me feel like I was lost in a time loop. How long has it been since Master locked me up in that claustrophobic little room of horrors, hidden from the world like a shameful dirty little secret? I guess to him, I was a filthy and immoral blight against Allah and the world in general.

Master believed that I deserved to be punished for being an abomination, but according to both Kamal and Yasmin, they said that Master was completely in the wrong in saying those things to me. They seemed to firmly believe that everything that Master has done to me was not him punishing me per say, but he was taking out his own immoral behavior and projecting the blame for his deplorable actions onto me. They firmly encouraged that I shouldn’t believe anything that he had drilled into me more ways than one.

It’s kind of hard to not believe the things someone has repeatedly screamed at you, beaten into you, raped you, and tortured you into believing. Otherwise, why were they doing it? Kamal had tried to explain that Master was an evil man and that he had sick and perverted ideals. I heard him screaming at one of his brothers in the hallway last night that the man was a hypocrite, and I wondered what that meant at the time, and now that I think about it. Do I have the courage to ask him what he meant? Will it displease him if I questioned him about what he meant?

I shook my head, everything was so confusing to me right now. I guess Kamal will let me know or help me figure out what to do from here. I located the toothpaste and happily brushed my teeth, it felt so good that I brushed them again and again until my gums tingled and the mintyness of the toothpaste began to sting my tongue. Next, I combed my hair, it took some pulling and a little tugging but I finally got both the comb and brush through my shoulder length locks.

I never seemed to be able to grow much hair on my face or my body even though I have a head full of thick dark hair and hair surrounding my privates, of which I was glad for. At least the bush down there hid the burns from Master’s cigar. The ruined skin was well hidden in the crease of where my thigh met leg, the spot where Mahmood had attempted to throw acid on my sinful cock as he had screamed at me when he made the attempt. I’d been quick enough to shift my privates out of the way, but not fast enough to prevent the corrosive liquid from splattering and burning the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Better my leg than my shaft and my balls. I winced as I recalled how excruciating the pain had been. I was almost happy when Master punished Mahmood with a severe whipping after he found out what the servant did to me without his consent.

Mahmood had always blamed me for leading Master down the road of taking forbidden flesh. He never once thought that it may have been the other way around. I had sometimes wondered, but Master had always found a way to painfully drive the point home that I was the one responsible for my punishments, and if I didn’t stop being a deviant, he was going to punish me until the end of my days. There were times when I was gripped under that man’s merciless hands that I actually had wished for my end.

“Jameel, are you decent?” I heard a delicate voice call out to me. I set the brush I was using on the vanity and quietly tiptoed my way over to the bathroom door. I peeked through the opening to see Yasmin set her medical bag on the crumpled bed as she looked around the room. I breathed a sigh of relief and I edged out of the bathroom and slowly made my way towards the petite little doctor.

“How are you this morning bright eyes? ” She chirped as came close enough for her to pull me into an exuberant hug and once again my body froze completely for a second and then I hopped away from her as if she burned me. No way was I supposed to touch a woman that wasn’t my wife or related to me in any way. “Oh gosh, I don’t think Kamal would even condone this.” I thought as I scurried across the room frantically looking for somewhere to hide. I slipped into the bathroom and promptly slammed the door and locked it. Oh goodness, why would she do that, if someone had walked into the room and saw us embracing…I shuddered at the thought of what the outcome of such a situation might’ve caused.

Working myself up into a fine frenzy, I didn’t hear the gentle knocking on the door or Yasmin apologizing for scaring me. I don’t know how long I frantically paced the length of the bathroom from wall to wall, but I nearly jumped out of my skin when there was loud cracking noise and the door flew open and banged against the wall. I immediately ducked into the small linen closet, slid the panel closed, and flattened myself against the wall. My heart was beating so fast, it threatened to burst right out of my chest. Oh my, did I ruin my chances with these kind people? What will Kamal say to me about touching his sister?

Through the slats of the door, I saw a tall shadow come to a stop and then the door began to slide open and I slid down the wall and made myself as small as possible. I covered my head with my arms, just incase they were going to beat me for my transgression. I heard the rustle of fabric and then everything went silent. I could literally hear the blood rushing through my ears and I waited and waited but nothing happened.

My curiosity got the better of me and I slowly slid my arms off my head while I prayed to any Deity out there that I wouldn’t soon regret not protecting myself. I peeked up from the curve of my elbow straight into Kamal’s unblinking gaze. I ducked my head again but it quickly popped back up as I felt two big hands wrap around my waist and pull me forward and out of the tiny space I had burrowed myself into. My mouth popped open and my mind just upped and died when I was plopped right down in front of Kamal, and he refused to let me go anywhere or move more than inch to the left or the right.

“What triggered this reaction.” He whispered and it took me a minute to register his words. I felt my anxiety levels spike all over again. He didn’t know what happened. Do I have the guts to tell him. Oh no, no, no, no. I tried to pull my hands out his grasp be he held on while I quietly had a nervous breakdown inside of my head. “Yasmin told me she gave you a hug and you got upset and ran away from her. Is that true?”

Letting out a deep sigh of resignation, I decided to just be up front and honest. These people have been nothing but nice to me and they deserved the truth, so I nodded my head and lowered my eyes in shame. I felt two thick fingers slide under my chin and raise my face upwards. I still refused to meet his eyes until he ordered me to look at him.

I blew out another ragged breath and raised my uncertain gaze to his intense one and I almost lost my breath all over again. This man was beauty personified and it only got even more intense the closer you got him. I felt like I was trapped in his smoldering gaze, I couldn’t look away if my life depended on it, and it was hard to concentrate on what he was saying because of the poetry in motion that was his mouth. I found myself thinking all those forbidden thoughts about him all over again and I could have died right there on the spot.

Mortified beyond belief, I blocked Kamal out the best way I could by closing my eyes and tuning him out completely. All I could hear in my head was the harsh voice of Master telling me that I was a deplorable excuse for a man. That I was useless to Allah because I wanted a man’s cock filling my ass, that I was less than nothing, nothing at all.

Again I gasped in shock as I was once again shifted from my spot in front of Kamal and placed right in the middle of his lap. I immediately tried to scramble to my feet but Kamal smoothly flipped us over until he had me pinned underneath him. I panicked some more and tried to twist and buck his body away from mine. After a few minutes of fruitless struggling, I only succeeded in wearing myself out. Exhausted and breathless, I gave up and went completely limp beneath his mouth watering bulk. Kamal’s ripped body was pure masculine muscle. He smelled like heaven and of course he looked like a God amongst men.

“Now are you ready to listen to me and actually hear what I have to say?” I patiently asked me now that I was no longer struggling with him. My chest was heaving and I was wheezing like a hundred year old man who smoked every hour of everyday of his life. It sort of ticked me off that Kamal wasn’t even breathing hard. He looked as calm and as cool as if he’s just freshly showered and dressed himself for the day. I fought the urge to roll my eyes at him. I just nodded my head in response to his question and just that fast, I found myself sitting upright once again.

I sat there and quietly listened to him explain about the dynamics of his family. How they interacted with one another, and about their parent’s giving them the choice to chose their religion, even if they wanted to have a religion in the first place. My eyes got wider and wider as he told me how his siblings interacted with one another within the privacy of their own home, and not only did their parents allow such familiarity, they encouraged it, but what really floored me, I mean knock me totally of kilter and made me really question everything I was told was when Kamal, tall, muscular, and the epitome of all things male told me about his sexual preference, that he preferred men over women and his family was alright with it.

We sat there for what seems like hours as he told me about his grandfather, the same man who had been my Master. He told me all about all the heart breaking things his own grandparent had said to him, and my heart shattered and my mind splintered at how similar those hateful, spiteful words eerily sounded like the same phrases he used to curse me with, even when he was using my body to do the things he was forcefully damning at the same time. It was now becoming clear to me and I was beginning to understand what exactly the old man had been doing to me for all these years.

I held up my hand to stop the outpouring of Kamal’s words. He stopped talking almost mid sentence, and for that I was glad because I didn’t think that I could possibly process anymore of what he was telling me. I now fully understood what the word hypocrite meant. I felt broken, I felt used and dirty. Most of all felt betrayed and downright disgusting. That old man had used me like a whore. He made me believe that everything that has happened to me was entirely my fault. He had beaten and abused me in unimaginable ways for a long time and he almost got away with it.

My stomach rolled with the knowledge of close I actually came to dying in the awful little room and I pitched the side and scrambled for the toilet. I raised the lid and dry heaved into the porcelain bowl. Tears poured out of my eyes as nothing but the bitter bile in my stomach rushed past my lips.

“Jameel, I didn’t plan to tell you any of this until later on, until you trusted us a little more and felt even more secure being in our home, but I can see that our relaxed attitude towards one another and what you have been trained to believe would’ve have caused you even more anxiety and discomfort in our presence. I’m sorry little one for what has happened to you, but I want you to know that I am here for you. My whole family is here to help you. The old man is gone and it will take time, but you are going to heal and move on from this. I will be by your side the whole time, and I will help you any way I can. I promise you that.”

The tears were still flowing down my cheeks as I closed the toilet lid and flushed it. Kamal surprised me yet again by picking me up off the floor as if I weighed nothing at all. He set me down on the counter next to one of the sinks and he filled one of the glasses of water and handed it to me. I quickly rinsed my mouth and set the glass down, but instead of letting me slide off the counter. He took a fluffy washcloth from the folded pile on the counter, wet it under the flow of water and wiped my tear stained face.

“Do you understand what I said just now.” He asked me and I nodded my head. Words were beyond me at the moment. I was overwhelmed and my brain just closed off as if refusing to deal with any of what I learned and what I was beginning to realize about the tragedy that was my life.

I peeked up from under my lashes only to be caught up in the intensely sincere gaze of this beautiful man standing in front of me, and some deep instinct within me told me to go ahead and trust this man. I had no other options really and sooner or later I’m going to have to come to terms with everything that has happened in my life thus far.

“Come on, let’s get some food into you, everything looks better on a full stomach.” He urged and I let him pull me off the counter and lead me back into the bedroom. My future is uncertain, and the only thing I can do now is take it one day at a time.

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Kamal…
(McDonalds)

It’s been a few days since my talk with Jameel in his bathroom and he is slowly but surely beginning to understand and deal with the uncustomary weirdness that surrounds my family. I couldn’t be prouder of my parents and my siblings in taking their time to let Jameel adjust to his new sense of freedom and his new surroundings.

Farooq and Hamid decided to stay for another few weeks rather than rushing back to the states. They delegated most of the day to day office activities to their corporate staff. They took care of the larger responsibilities and opted to oversee their multiple business dealings via teleconference from our father’s study. My dad won’t admit it, but he was prouder than a peacock to have us all at home and working side by side.

He had even rushed to have one of the sitting rooms transformed into another office so that Farrah and I had our own area to work away from the buzzing telephones, video chats, and pings of computer’s stock market software that constantly alerts my brothers with real time updates of the El-Sayed millions of dollars worth in investments.

In my opinion, I think my old man was going through something close to empty nest syndrome with all of us never being in one place at the same time for any length of time. Especially here in the Saudi’s capital city, Riyadh. He’s happier than a bug in a rug to have all of us at home. He seemed to take delight with all of our noise and fussing, our play fighting and even our not so good natured squabbling, although we have been keeping all of our usual boisterousness under wraps for Jameel’s sake. We would probably scare him half to death if we truly decided to act up as we usually do.

When I found about Jameel’s morning routine, I found it so adorable. He would wake up at the crack of dawn before anyone else in the house, and he would take a long hot bubble bath and groom himself until everything was silky smooth, from his luminescent skin to his luxurious locks. It was like it gave him the greatest of pleasure just to be able to do these things and I would tease him about it if it wasn’t so heartbreaking the reason behind his delight in doing something as simple as taking bubble bath. Things people take for granted everyday.

I’ve had the housekeepers stock his bathroom with all kinds of scented bath oils and soaps ordered directly from Morocco. His lotions and other personal moisturizing creams Farrah ordered from one of her suppliers from Sweden, and from the way his skin gleamed and the shine radiating off his thick waves, Jameel was thoroughly enjoying pampering himself with the decadent products.

My day started like any other, Farooq and Hamid woke me up in the usual rude manner of jumping on my bed and harassing me. Once our morning tradition was observed we parted ways to go get ready to face the day. I would take a detour from going straight to the dining room and slap Hamid’s hand away from the table. He never failed to try to finish Mommy’s pastries before I could get my share, but I had to retrieve Jameel. He would be sitting patiently on his perfectly made bed waiting for me.

The only thing that Jameel has refused to budge on was his abaya (robe). I couldn’t seem to get him to part with it. My brother’s and I have all tried to explain to him that it was a female’s garment. We tried everything to get him to wear everything from custom fitted slacks and natural cotton button down shirts to jeans and t-shirts. We even tried traditional thobe which was similar to his abaya but he refused and went right back to the swirling shapeless black robes, and when he was having a bad day his niqab (veil) would make an appearance too.

Yasmin cautioned me that his robes were what was familiar to him and they were like his security blanket. She also informed me that due to all the scarring on his body from his injuries, he feels more secure wearing his abayas. The thobe was more appropriate, as the male customary garment, but Jameel would most likely connect the garment to what our grandfather most likely would have worn in his presence. So Farrah, ever the fashionista had several in types, “more masculine,” abayas made just for his specific measurements. He had plain cotton ones, embroidered silken ones, and some new breathable type fabric she’s been experimenting with.

God everytime Jameel looked at me with uncertainty or silently asked me permission to do something with his expressive eyes. Something people usually considered mundane, like having an extra slice of toast with their breakfast drove me batshit crazy. The fear and stress he had to live with for so many years made me want to dig the old fucker up just to beat his corpse and leave the carcass in the desert so that the vultures can reduce him to nothing.

Another thing that Jameel still hasn’t mustered the courage to do was to venture out and explore the house on his own and I was okay with that as well. I liked that he needed me, and that he trusted me enough to respond little by little to the gentle nudges I’ve been giving him to do things for himself. Things like selecting his food during our meals, and not waiting for me to tell him what or when to eat, or when use to the bathroom. He would even look to me to see if he should get up from the table, but he was getting a little better about it. He was beginning to feel a bit more comfortable around all of us, and I prayed that his confidence was growing as well.

I had to admit that Jameel took to the girls better after I had explained our family’s dynamics to him. When we are in our own home, we are free to interact with each other as we liked, but when we were out in public we observed the time honored traditions of our birth land. The girls were covered from head to toe and even though we were from the same family when we went to some of the souks (markets) we either separated or we had to make it a point that we were their brothers so the segregation rules didn’t apply to us.

Jameel slowly warmed up to my parents, my mom more so than my dad. He was intimidated by our father, but then again at some point all of us are. My father was a force to reckoned with. He was taller than average, and even after being married with grown children. He was still as fit as any of his son’s. He had a distinguished splattering of gray in his hair and that was the only tell about his actual age.

Our mother on the other hand was just as flawless as our father even more so. She has always been that way, and my all of my sisters aspired to age just as timeless as she. Although mommy was still grieving over the only father figure in her life. She still managed to spoil Jameel rotten.

I’d been worried about her at first. I thought that she making up for her father’s sins by overindulging Jameel with anything and everything he didn’t even know he wanted, but that wasn’t the case. Like every other female in the house, and myself included, although I’m very much a man. Jameel has captivated us all with his delicately stunning features, those soulful brown eyes, and that innocently sweet smile will gladly make a person want walk through the fires of hell wearing gasoline soaked drawers just to have him smile like the angel he is.

Case and point, last night our mother made the very traditional dish of the kingdom, Kabsa Biryani with Laham. It’s a savory rice dish loaded with vegetables, raisins, nuts, and spices like cumin, cinnamon, pepper and nutmeg. It’s served with roasted shanks of Lamb that is placed right in the middle of the platter.

We had even dined traditionally by sitting cross legged on the floor in the family room and eating off the same humungous platter and making sure we used our right hand and kept our left far away the platter since it was considered unclean. I love my culture I truly do, but sometimes it was too many rules to remember and the punishments for breaking any of those rigid set in stone rules in this country is extreme to say the least.

I don’t know who had started the conversation about American food, but we had gotten on the subject of milkshakes and chicken nuggets from McDonalds. Our dad groaned and licked his lips at the mention of chocolate milkshakes, and our mother just kissed her teeth. She said that kind of food was a heart attack waiting to happen in a pretty package. Jameel had piped up for once and asked what a milkshake tasted like and why did Hamid look like he was going to eat his own finger at the mention of nugget chicken.

Although I wanted to laugh at his little play of words, I didn’t, I knew how sensitive he was around all of us at once. I gently corrected him by telling him that the proper term for the dish was chicken nuggets. I had explained what they were and what a milkshake was and the different flavors they were available in.

I told him that they are high in fat content, that’s why mommy considered them bad for you. It was then that Hamid added his two cents by saying if something tasted like heaven, it was usually bad for you, and that’s why exercise was invented. I didn’t even know what to say to the only one of us who despised going to the gym, so I had to shake my head at Hamid’s warped sense of humor.

It was early afternoon and father, Farooq, Jameel and I were sitting in the office. Jameel was busy surfing the wonders of the internet with wide eyed curiosity that was borderline on complete awe. While he was doing that, I helped Farooq to go over some reports from the different department heads of one of the import export companies we took control of from our deceased grandfather. Hamid was off doing what he does best, and that was to pester Fatima in

the kitchen into feeding him his body weight worth of leftovers. It was a miracle he wasn’t morbidly obese thanks to his superpowered metabolism.

We were almost done going through the lengthy reports when Hamid came banging through the office door almost startling Jameel to death. The poor boy squeaked and dove for straight for me. He landed right in my lap and climbed up my chest almost reaching the top of my head.

“Asre’ (hurry up). The girls brought back McDonalds.” He hollered before abruptly disappearing back the way he came.

My father’s head shot up so quick, his glasses bounced on the tip of his nose. “Matha? Ayn? (What? Where?)” And he was up and out the door.

Farooq and I stared at each other for a split second before I wrapped my arms tightly around a still clinging Jameel, hipped Farooq’s big body out of my way, and squeezed through the door and bounded off towards the kitchen.

I stopped long enough to deposit my precious cargo on the countertop and reached for one of the cup holders with four large cups in it. “Ow!” I yelled and snatched my hand back and rubbed the away the sharp pain radiating through my abused digits. I pouted at my mother who was giving me the look with the wooden spoon still in her hand. Hamid and our father were holding their reddened hands in the same manner so she must mean business.

None of dared to reach out for the food for fear of the woman breaking our knuckles. We all stood there drooling like rabid animals at the mouth watering smell of greasy golden chicken nuggets and crispy French fries. I knew the woman was torturing us when she set out three small glasses and took her own sweet time in pouring the three different flavors of milkshakes, strawberry, vanilla, and chocolate into them.

She came over and handed them one by one to Jameel for him to taste. I almost forgot that I was dying to sink my teeth into the fried food by the way he licked the milky froth from his top lip. I willed myself not to blush as my cock twitched behind my zipper. My siblings would never let me live it down if I threw a boner right here in the middle of the kitchen. Jameel finally

selected for the strawberry milkshake and our mother handed him a large container of fries and a another container of nuggets complete with an array of dipping sauces.

It was only then she waved her hands finally giving us the go ahead to eat, and we all converged on the food like a hungry pack of dogs. Mommy just shook her head at us and pointed a well meaning finger at our father. I guess that was all the warning he was going to get not to gorge himself on this kind of meal. She took a small shake for herself and left us to it.

Farooq sat down in the corner of the breakfast nook and leaned over his food protecting it from poachers. He paid us no mind whatsoever. Hamid looked like a squirrel gathering food into his overstuffed cheeks like he was preparing for a long winter. The girls were at least had some form of home training, but they were eating with just as much enthusiasm as everyone else. I refused to look in my father’s direction so when mommy asked me later how much he ate, I can actually tell her I don’t know and get away with it.

I could help but watch Jameel’s experience with his food. It was so adorable how he pulled out a fry and looked at it. He almost went cross eyed he had it so close to his face. Then his little nose scrunched up as he sniffed it.

“Take a bite little one, you’ll like it trust me.” I said as his wide eyes shot up to mine.

He carefully brought the fry up to his delectable lips and he took a bite. I watched his eyes light up and he dug into the container for another. I opened a package of ketchup and squeezed some on a plate and dipped my own fries into it. Jameel followed suit and gave a tiny hum of delight before sampling his nuggets and humming in delight some more. He eagerly sucked on his shake until he gave himself brain freeze, but he was happy none the less, and I felt my heart swell in my chest. I would do anything to keep that smile on his face.

I almost lost my nuggets to Hamid, I was paying so much attention to this beautiful boy in front of me, but I squirted him in the face with some ketchup. He wailed and went to wipe his face and I snatched my nuggets back. I settled into eating while listening to Jameel happily slurping away on his shake. It was one of the best afternoons I have ever spent at home with my siblings and my little beauty sitting at my side. Happily indulging in our uncustomary treat with no worries other than guarding our nuggets from each other.

Chapter 12

Jameel…

(The pool)

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I pressed on the little button underneath my finger and I, “clicked,” on the left hand side of the little gadget Kamal had explained to me that it’s called a mouse, and I had almost choked myself I laughed so hard. Of all the things the inventors who created this awesome device could have named the little navigation instrument, they had chosen to name it after vermin. Wow, smart people are weird. The mechanical rodent was connected to a flat screen monitor, and there was also a keyboard with different letters of the alphabet printed in both the English and Arabic alphabet. The buttons on the keyboard were called keys hence the name keyboard.

I was completely fascinated by moving the mouse all over the wide screen and randomly clicking on each and every little thing icon to see what would happen. Kamal was sitting right beside me working on a portable computer he said was a laptop. Both machines had a picture of this half eaten apple on them.

The thin little folding thing he had propped on one of his thick thighs, it was gold on the outside with white keys while the one set up on the desk in front of me was all white, the keyboard and everything. Farooq had explained that the apple was the logo of the company that created and manufactured the devices. They also made other portable machine and their names all started with the lowercase letter, “i.”

Everyone in this family seemed to be connected by the hip to a portable phone. They each had different phones various sizes and colors. Nasim had explained that their cellular phones were different models of the iPhone. Then Yasmin proceeded to show me another portable computer and a music player.

The flat gadget that was roughly the size of piece of paper only thicker, she said it was an iPad tablet and the music player was an iPod. It boggles my mind how all the devices seemed to connect to one another and to the user’s personal account where they can be customized to that person’s preferences.

I kept up my with my clicking until I found a file full of pictures. I happily sorted through them one by one looking at the smiling faces of the siblings along with their parents. They had taken pictures all over the world it seems and it was so awe inspiring look at the different places, the different way the dressed, and the different landscapes in the backgrounds. My heart fluttered that maybe one day I can leave this country and see different places and sample different foods as well.

Grinning like an idiot, I continued to click over and over again on the photos looking at the El-Sayed family’s photographic documentation of years worth family trips and gatherings. Every scenario was covered, and multiple chronological images ranging from the silly pictures of the kids making faces to the sweet as can be photos of the parents cuddling with their dripping wet toddlers on huge beach towels on stunning white sandy beaches.

Then the later years as the sweet little babies grew into their teens and then adulthood and the family pictures of all the clan together on one place had become few and far in between. I wondered if they realize how precious their time spent together as a family was? I would have given anything to have both my parents and maybe a brother to play with or a sister to protect and care for. All I know is that my world came crashing down after my mom died, and Master…I had to stop myself, that man was no Master. He was a sick bastard. May Allah forgive me for speaking ill of the dead.

I wasn’t expecting it, but it seems that my thoughts brought about the next circle of events. On the very next click of the mouse, a portrait picture came up on the widescreen of computer screen of Naji Shariff himself, the man who proclaimed himself as my Master while he abused me in ways no human should never have to experience. The man was walking in the photo with his thobe (robe) swirling behind him while talking to another man I didn’t know.

I was so shocked and appalled to see his face again so suddenly, my hand went slack and came slapping down on top of the mouse. The thing skidded from under my fingertips and clattered across the surface of the desk. A tiny gasp escaped my mouth and I pushed back from the computer and immediately pulled my niqab (veil) from around my neck and wrapped it around my face shrouding myself in darkness and locking out the world.

I felt movement beside me and I scooted a little further away whoever it was. There was a brief murmured conversation before I heard a door open and close. I was left in the blissful silence of my self made shelter and I relaxed just for a bit. This is the reason why I refused to part with my beloved abaya (robe) and my niqab (veil). They have allowed me to disappear over the years, to easily transition from this painful confusing environment and into the tranquil serene altered universe of my own making.

A soft hand brushed across my shoulder and my entire body stiffened. I was getting ready to take flight and run across the room. My shriek of terror dried up quick in the back of my throat when I was lifted and promptly deposited on a wide lap, and it seems after years of training, the old man’s wish had come true. Like Pavlov’s dog, my body performed exactly the way the old man had taught it to do over the years. I went absolutely still and waited until the person decided to do what they wanted with me.

Then it dawned on me that I wasn’t that person anymore. Kamal had rescued me out of my prison. He and his family told me that I am somebody that I am not what he taught me to be, and yet here I practically giving myself a heart attack over a photograph of the dead man. He’s dead and gone. No longer does he have the power to make me live in fear again.

I heard a quiet whisper close to my cloth covered ear. “Hush Jameel, no one and nothing is going to ever hurt you again. Do you remember the promise I made to you when we were sitting on the floor in your bathroom?” Kamal’s soothing baritone flowed over my frayed nerves like a soothing agent.

My hands shook as I slowly removed my veil and timidly brought my eyes up to meet his stunning ones. Allah help me, but this man was beautiful, sitting this close to him, literally on top of him and having him look at me like I was the most precious thing that he has ever set eyes on. That intensely focus look had my heart fluttering away in my chest and the man simply left me tongue tied.

Kamal was looking at me expectantly but his question was the last thing running through my mind at the moment. It also dawned on me that everything that hypocrite had said and the things I had to suffer through because of his warped beliefs was a lie. Every single person in house has said so and have tried every way to make me accept and believe it.

Mistress El-Sayed had even said that her father was absolutely depraved and wrong to say and do what he did to me. She stood against her own father and said the man had lied and abused me for most of my life because he had been afraid to accept his own sexuality, and instead of coming to terms with it.

She went on to say that the man was riddled with self disgust and like a coward he punished others, especially those who tempted what he saw as sinful and unnatural urges, namely me. I could clearly see that admission had hurt her to soul. It was like someone had wrenched her world from right underneath her feet. She more than anyone else in this house felt just a smidgen on the pain I had to endure over the years.

If the old man had been so wrong and lied to me about everything, I wondered if I really wasn’t an abomination for liking men. I wondered if it was okay to have these feelings, the sexual romantic kind of feelings I have only read about in stories.

Kamal had bravely admitted that he was attracted to men and his entire family was okay with it. No one seemed to care any less for him because of it. My overtaxed mind kicked over yet again and I pondered over the thought that if this sexy beast truly is enchanted with other men, what kind of man is he attracted to? Would he and could he ever be attracted to me?

I snapped out of my internal musings when I felt those big warm hands squeeze my shoulders in order get my attention. I looked back up into Kamal’s handsome face and struggled to remember the question he had asked me earlier. It was something about him keeping his promise to keep me safe. I quickly nodded my head to answer him so that little crease of concern between his eyebrows would go away.

I had some serious thinking to do. My captor had quoted my sins directly from the Quran. My religion or I should say the religion I was raised to believe in and the very culture I was born into believed that I was indeed a sodomite and a sinner. That I was going to burn in hell for my unnatural predilections.

I wanted so much to talk to Kamal about all of it, but I had no idea how I was going to even bring that up in a conversation without giving myself third degree burns all over my body from blushing so hard. I can’t even look at him for long periods of time before I started flushing like someone poured scalding hot water over me.

All of a sudden the study’s door banged against the wall and I jumped so fast, I nearly fell off Kamal’s lap. His long arms wrapped tightly around my waist and he pulled me back until I was steadily seated once again in his lap.

I looked up to see Nasim and Farrah standing there smirking at us and then my eyes went wide as saucers because I realized I was still sitting on Kamal’s lap like it was the most natural place in the world for me to be, and as if on que my face lit up like Chernobyl’s exposed nuclear reactor and I tried to get up but those two thick bands of steel tightened around my waist and I refused to look back at Kamal as he refused to let me get up.

For once I thanked Allah for this family’s untraditional behavior and lack of respect for each other’s personal space.

“Come on you two, Mummy finally had Mohammed open and clean the pool.” Nasim chirped and bounded over to us and grabbed each of our wrists and pulled. I found his almost comical and absolutely adorable that Kamal groaned and let his little slip of a sister think that she had the ability to move his massive mountain of muscles with such little effort. She was about the same size if not a little smaller than I was.

I was glad for the reprieve from thinking about my life and sexuality too hard as the girls giggled and wove their way through the labyrinth they called a house. We followed dutifully behind them, and I didn’t miss the fact that Kamal held onto my hand the entire way to their pool area.

It wasn’t until we passed through a set of wide sparkling glass doors, I noticed for the first time what they were wearing. They were appropriately covered but their robes or cover ups I should call them was light enough to see their swimsuits underneath the gauzy fabric.

As we crossed the terracotta tiled patio and turned the corner my jaw dropped at the virtual oasis in front of me. The pool itself was a wonder of creation. It looked like there were no edges like a regular inlaid body of cement, it looked like a lagoon or outdoor grotto.

There plush lounge chairs scattered throughout the space with lush ferns and other types of palms and tropical plants. Yasmin was already in the water and so was Hamid, they were busy setting up some type of met when all of a sudden Farooq came barreling off a hidden platform at

the back of the pool and performed an Olympic champion worthy dive right into the water. There was even a splash as the man’s decadent body sliced right through the water.

I discreetly slipped my niqab (veil) a little further up on my face because I am sure I was drooling. The El-Sayed children were truly blessed when it came to their beauty. Hamid and Farooq where mind numbing handsome, and Farooq was even taller and wider than Kamal. He was almost too big. Hamid’s muscles were a little less defined than his brothers but he was just as handsome, and not to mention the girls. They were absolutely stunning. I found myself wishing I was that pretty.

Oh gosh, listen to me giving off commentary about how men look and wishing I was as flawless as the girls. I just shook my head, if I was going to hell, I might as well enjoy the ride.

Kamal laughed at Hamid’s attempt to get a white ball from his sisters but they all ganged up on him. It looked like they were drowning the man, but he was laughing more than fighting them.

“Come on, this way. Let’s get changed into our suits so we can get into the water too.” Kamal said as he took me by the wrist and started walking towards a hidden dressing area.

Oh gosh, I was going to see this man in nothing but a bathing suit…”OH JOY!” I cheered in my mind and then it hit me. I was expected to wear a bathing suit too. My mind went from cheering to panicking just like that. The only things I was thinking about was my skinny pale body and my ugly scars. “OH HELP!”

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Kamal…

I’ve never had a problem with a getting a handsome man out of his clothes before today, but with Jameel, it was taking an Herculean effort just to get his delectable little body out of his robes and into a bathing suit. I was currently leaning against the pool house bathroom door trying to coax the little beauty out of the restroom. I had found one of Hamid’s board shorts for him. It may be a little long for him, but with the drawstring waist, it should be a perfect fit for his slender waistline.

I know he’s anxious about his appearance,specifically the scar tissue in certain places on his body. The evidence of his time spent in the clutches of the man I called grandfather, that sick bastard. I hope he’s reaping the same torture he had bestowed upon Jameel while his soul is burns in Hell.

Despite all the things he had to endure, Jameel remained modest and he’s very shy by nature. I acknowledge the fact that just the thought of being overly exposed in front of my siblings and I, would make him nervous even if I’ve already seen him naked when he first arrived to our home and I helped him bathe before he played in the tub.

I’ve seen how much he enjoys taking long luxurious bubble baths in the sunken tub, so I’m sure the pool will send him into fits of euphoria. If only he’ll give it a chance. I wouldn’t care if he wore his robes and his veil to go into the water, as long as he got in, I’d be fine. I’ve seen most of his scars, but according to Yasmin, the ones I saw were just the superficial ones. Jameel had many more that made her cringe at the pain he must have endured until the healed. His marks did not matter to me, Jameel could have scars covering his entire body, but I would still see him as the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

Leaning a little closer to the closed door, I tried again to get him to come out. “I understand your concerns little one, but please come out so you can experience swimming in the pool. It’s like playing in a gigantic sunken bathtub. I don’t know if you’ve ever had the chance to

swim or play in an inground swimming pool and I want to share the fun with you. You can even borrow one of my shirts if it makes you feel more secure.” There was complete silence from behind the panel.

I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose in defeat, the poor thing. I can’t force him out of his comfort zone. “It’s alright Jameel, if you would rather sit and be comfortable in your own clothes and watch us instead that’s fine. I don’t want you to feel pressured. I want you to be at ease around us.”

There was still absolute silence behind the door and I haven’t a clue what to do or what to say next. Then the wooden panel opened and a slender hand peeked through the miniscule gap. “You promised your shirt.” His sweet little voice whispered and I damn near fell over my feet in my haste to go grab a plain t-shirt from the closet for him.

I hurried back to the door and I placed one of my shirts in his hand and just as quickly as his dainty hand had appeared, it disappeared again. After waiting a few more moments, the door once again opened, but this time the space was little wider and my timid little beauty poked his head out instead of his arm this time.

God, he’s is so damned adorable, I had to suck my lips in between my teeth and bite them to keep myself from smiling like the village idiot at his wide eyed but cautious expression. Jameel’s curls had flopped over his forehead and he scanned the room before he took a tentative step out of the bathroom, and oh my heaven above, it took all that I had to keep my hands to myself when all I wanted to do was scoop him up and snuggle him close.

My shirt hung almost to his knees, and Jameel was so small in stature, the neckline hung off one creamy shoulder and my cock perked right up in appreciation of the view. My hands flew to the front of my body, and I clasped them over my growing crotch. No way was I going to pop an erection in front of him and make him feel uncomfortable, or heaven forbid unsafe. I silently groaned in my head and willed my shaft to shrink. This is going to be a long afternoon for me and my will power, especially if he gets wet. Maybe swimming wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Oh well, what is done is done. “Are you ready little one?” I asked him and he looked up at me with those deep chocolate eyes for a second before he ducked his head again and nodded. I

began calling on every Deity out there to give me strength not to get hard and flash him like a horny two bit pervert.

I could already hear Farooq cackling like a fiend as we made our way towards the pool, there was a lot of splashing going on and if I knew my brother, there’s no doubt he was getting ready to do his infamous cannonball into the deep end of the pool. I should hurry up and get there just to trip him halfway through his routine and watch him belly flop instead, but I didn’t want to take the chance and leave Jameel alone at the drenched poolside. He might slip and fall.

We stepped out onto the patio area just in time to see Farooq sail through the air, he curled his fit body into a ball moments before he hit the water. My sisters shrieked on top of their lungs and turned away from the wave of displaced water the knucklehead created. Jameel still jumped as a good amount of water that had flashed all the way towards us and splashed over our feet.

Jameel yipped and scooted even closer to me. “The water is chilly?” He chirped in awe as he continued to watch my siblings make a spectacle out of themselves.

“Which is a good thing, the only reason we are not sweltering to death in the heat out here is because the entire grotto is shaded and those rocks are actually individual air conditioning units circulating cool air throughout the patio area.” I chuckled as his gorgeous eyes got even wider and he actually bent down to look at one of the rocks closest to us. He held his hand out in front of it and he must of felt the cool air because he jumped up and gave me a dazzling smile.

Just as I was about to open my mouth and say something,Yasmin and Nasim came over dripping wet from head to toe. Come on Jameel, come sit on the steps with us where you will be safe from our brother’s antics and you can assimilate yourself to the water. Do you know how to swim?” Nasim chirped as they dragged him away.

Jameel didn’t resist them and my exuberant sisters carted him off. He did however turn around and looked at me to see if I was okay with the familiarity my sisters were taking with him. I gave him an encouraging smile and nodded my head letting him know that everything was alright. I barely had time to do anything else when I was suddenly tackled from behind. I lost my balance and toppled inelegantly over the edge and went head first into the chlorinated water.

I broke the surface sputtering and wheezing, trying my best to cough up the water that I’d inhaled thanks to Farooq, who was currently laughing his ass off poolside. Hamid was standing right next to him holding his gut he was so thoroughly amused by my current situation. I used their distraction against them as I slinked my way closer and lunged, I surprised the idiots by grabbing each of their wrists and pulling, they both squawked as they lost their footing and tumbled into the water right along with me.

The girls where cheering and hooting and hollering from the shallow end of the pool, and I turned and gave them a courtly bow thanking them for their support. My gaze traveled over to where Jameel was seated on the wide steps submerged in the water only to the waist. He had both hands clasped over his mouth and his slim shoulders were shaking as he tried to suppress his laughter. I knew he was amused by our foolishness, and I vowed before the afternoon came to an end, I was going to get him to smile openly with us.

I watched as all of a sudden my little beauty’s eyes went impossibly wide, and he nervously pointed to someone or something over my shoulder. I should have braced myself, I should have known that frick and frack would resurface like hard to kill cockroaches. I tried to turn around, but I wasn’t fast enough and once again found myself inhaling half the contents of the pool. Ugh..those fuckers are so dead.

When I came up for much needed air, the two fools were already across the pool trying to hide behind the girls. I just flipped then off and turned my attention back to the prettiest person on the patio at the moment. He was biting that plump little bottom lip and staring right back at me. I would pay any amount of money at the moment to know what he was thinking.

Hmm…I decided to go over there and find out for myself. I wanted to get in into the water as well. I know once he gets a hang of the buoyancy, he’s going to thoroughly enjoy himself. Weaving my way through the water, I paid my splashing sibling no mind as I took a seat next to Jameel on the step. I watched as he averted his eyes from my chest and a furious blush stained his cheeks. Well, well, I liked that reaction very much. I almost preened like peacock with its feathers on full display.

I had to fold my hands over my lap as my shaft twitched, even in my wet shorts as it got happy all over again. “Hey, you want to go in a little further? I’ll be right behind you, so there is nothing to afraid of, we won’t go anywhere near the deep end.”

My cutie looked out over the shimmering water and then back at me. “Um…okay, but you’ll be next to me right?” He whispered and I vowed if he wanted to use me as a life preserver, I would gladly let him. Fuck, I might even enjoy it.

“I’ll be right there with you every step of the way. I won’t let anything happen to you.” I reassured him and he nodded his head. His little face took on an expression of determination. Gah… he just pushed all of my buttons. I found myself desperately wishing my family was on the other side of the freaking world right about now, but Jameel was nowhere ready for the heat that I would bring his way if we were alone.

He stood up and I followed him, I stepped down onto the bottom step and held my hand out towards him. He took a deep breath before placing his much smaller hand in mine, and I gave him an encouraging smile as I led him out into the shallow depths. I vaguely heard Yasmin telling the two idiots to behave themselves because Jameel was properly in the pool now. I shadowed his tentative steps and once he got the hang of it, he took to it like he’s been doing it all his life.

My heart almost burst with joy in my chest when he took a bold step away from me and that was it. Jameel frantically waved his hands like a little kid and started batting and splashing water everywhere. Peels and peels of giggles escaped him as he danced around and bounced all over the place thoroughly enjoying himself.

I heard my brothers and sisters laughing as they joined in on the fun. God, I felt like there was vice around my heart as I watched his innocent enchantment with something we all take for granted on a daily basis. He was absolutely stunning as he outright laughed and batted water at my sisters and timidly splashed my brothers. I heard a sniffle behind me and I turned to see my mother standing poolside.

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she watched Jameel play an take such delight from being chest deep in our pool. I know she was still adjusting to grandfather’s deplorable actions, and I

caught her eye and blew her a kiss. She gave me a watery smile and pointed to the food laden tray she must have brought outside.

I nodded at her and she blew a kiss right back at me before shaking her head at our silliness and making her way back into the house. I turned back to the fun only to have a giggling wiggly little body crash into my arms. Jameel shrieked and I closed my eyes and silently cursed in my head, tweedle dee and tweedle dum were too busy splashing water at Jameel to his utter delight and he tried to used me as a buffer against them. Fuck my life, I thought as my cock almost instantaenously stood at full mast. I remained as still as possible and prayed he wouldn’t come anywhere near during his wild thrashing around.

I held him tightly around his waist and angled my lower half as far away as I could get from his enticing body. I was so going to punch those two in their throat the minute I got myself out of this mess. My ever observant sister finally called and end to the water play, and Fatima pointed to the food. Sure enough Hamid almost drowned Farooq in his haste to get out of the water.

The girls quickly plucked Jameel out of my arms, this was the one and only time I was actually happy for their interference. Soon I was the only one in the water and believe me, I took my sweet ass time getting out of the pool. By the time I hauled myself out the opposite end of the pool and grabbed a towel, my misbehaving organ had once again deflated and it cooperating with me at the moment. I still glared daggers at the idiots. They were completely oblivious to my evil thoughts, they were too busy inhaling the sandwiches and pastries like they’ve never seen food before.

Jameel was nibbling on a thick roasted lamb sandwich when I took a seat next to him. He sweetly handed me a plate full of food. He must have served out for me seeing how the bottomless pits were trying to make it look like eating was a competition of some kind. How perfect was he? I winked at him and mouthed,“thank you,” and washed his pretty little face glow with a bright blush. I tucked into my food thinking that today had been a great day and I hoped to give Jameel many more happy days like this one.

Chapter 14

Chapter 14

If someone had told me a few months ago that my life would take a turn for the better, and I was going get to see more than the four walls of that horrible room in that godforsaken house. Then I would have wondered what alternate universe they had come from. I would have wondered if they were smoking more than cured tobacco in their Hookah pipe. The El-Sayed family are very special people.

The siblings are great and I feel really comfortable around all of them now. The girls have been really wonderful and patient with me. They include me in everything they are doing. The only thing I have refused to do is leave the house. Despite using the internet and reading about the outside world, and looking at the pictures of how my Kingdom has progressed over the years is a little overwhelming for me. I feel like that old man in the American fairytales I used to read about, the man who had fallen asleep one day and woke up twenty years later.

I felt like that man who had woken up old and useless to the progress of society. How was I supposed to go out and interact people on the outside. It took me forever just to assimilate to this house and the wonderful people inside of it. Well almost everyone, I’m still a little jittery around Mr. El-Sayed, he is big and strapping like his sons, but so much more dynamic in his larger than life personality, a real Alpha male. His wife was a perfect match for him. Where he had hard uncompromising edges, Mrs. El-Sayed has the softer buffered curves to round him out and compliment him. For all my cultural teachings about the man being the head of the household in both the Arabic and Islamic culture, from what I have witnessed it is true, but only to an extent.

Mrs. El-Sayed was definitely not a submissive, meek member of the household. Her husband, children, and staff treated her like the queen she is, and they all deferred to her wishes. It’s funny sometimes to watch, especially the lengths Mr. El-Sayed goes to make sure his wife his happy. Whether it’s disappearing into his library to hide from her wrath or using his kids as buffers to sneak his treats and trying his best not to attract her attention. He often times had to

step in and reprimand his rambunctious children when they were little kids. They acted like it most of the time, but it was all in good fun and their bond is unmistakable.

Sighing, I spun myself in circles in the desk chair in front of my own personal laptop. I now had a computer desk in my room and every other comfort I could possibly imagine. My favorite was still the humongous bathtub and now the pool, although it still scared me to go into the deep end. Yasmin has been teaching me how to keep my head above water. Kamal had forbidden Hamid and Farooq from trying to teach me how to swim. He felt they would drown me in the process of trying to outdo each other.

Kamal had taken it upon himself like so many other things concerning me to teach me how to swim when he wasn’t tied up with his side of the business he managed with Fatima. Although, I would never admit it out loud, my feelings about him were conflicting with each other. On one side of the coin, I’m so grateful and so thankful that Allah finally decided to bless me by bringing this man into my life. He was like one of those fabled Christian guardian angels. I felt absolutely safe when he was around, no matter the situation.

Through his constant and unwavering spirit, he has repeatisciously instilled within me that fact that I am a person worthy of Allah’s grace. He has all but shook the knowledge into my brain that I am not a wicked, evil creature that is designated to be punished for inspiring lust within another man. I remember feeling so hot and flushed in the face when he’d softly whispered in my ear that being able to do that was in fact a good thing.

Over the last couple of days, Kamal and Yasmin have both approached me and they have been slowly talking to me about my time spent with their grandfather, they encouraged me to talk about my feelings about the entire situation. They explained that, I wasn’t the one at fault in that dysfunctional relationship and they went to length to tell me that it was their grandfather’s depraved mind and self loathing that was the driving force behind his abuse. They kept on until I fully understood that what the elder had done to me was and is punishable by the law if he were alive.

It was a hard pill to swallow to know that everything that man had said and drilled me into believing was a lie for him to use me like a bought and paid for concubine. A whore I believe the term was in modern English. The other topic they had spoken to me about in length

was my sexuality and my feelings on the subject. And that was the other side of the coin I am trying to reconcile my emotions with.

I have finally been able to admit my attraction to Kamal to myself without feeling like the fires of hell were going to shoot out of the ground and burn me alive where I stood. Ever since that fateful day when my avenging angel found me in my prison and dragged me into the loving arms of his family, I knew without a doubt that I desired this man, even when I thought it was wrong because it had been drilled into me time and time again that it was. According to Yasmin, who is a trained physician and Kamal, who is a homosexual man who had actually had relationships with the same sex, have both explained that there is absolutely nothing remotely wrong with having sexual feeling for another man as one is supposed to have for a woman.

I had argued that the Quran, the Christian Bible, the laws of my Kingdom and many other places did not see homosexuality as anything to be approved of in society. They had inturned countered my argument by showing me articles of the LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning/queer) communities around the world fighting for their rights to live and love and to get married in the eyes of the law.

They showed me articles and multiple stories and places of people who had actually achieved the right to marry and happy couples of both sexes raising children and a family like everyone else. They showed me the news of marriage being legalized in the United States and happy couples all over tying the knot in wedded matrimony. I wasn’t surprised to see that for every inch gained for the gay community there were always and will always be groups of people opposing and trying to rip those precious advances away.

Kamal and Yasmin had left me alone to my thoughts after our in depth discussions. I can honestly say that I felt better about myself, a bit more comfortable in my own skin. I didn’t let my mind dwell on the things that were done to me in that house, nor did I see myself as a poor little victim and let it control me. I just thanked Allah that I survived the ordeal. I didn’t die alone and broken in the dank miserable little room. I was safe, and now I’m being cared for by amazing people that are oddly enough, blood relations to the very man who tried to ruin my very soul.

I was no longer ashamed by the fact I admired all of the brother’s sculpted bodies, or my heart rate increased and my shaft tingled with awareness whenever Kamal touched any part of

my skin for any reason. Allah above bless the fact I wore his large shirts during our swimming lessons, or else I’d never be able to face the man ever again if he witnessed my reaction to him. He is everything to me, no one could be more perfect.

Not only does he occupy my dreams at night, I started to daydream about the man as well. I have caught myself staring at him like he was riveting documentary on TV. I watched him like he was an interesting movie, and sometimes I had to catch myself and look away in case he thinks I’m weird or something. I found myself wondering about him more and more about, oh gosh, do dare think about it. I actually looked around my room like someone else was witnessing the carnal path in which my thoughts decided to take.

Thanks to my bumbling and often times embarrassing therapeutic discussions with Yasmin. I have been fantasizing about what it would feel like to be with Kamal in a sexual situation. She had explained the mechanics of the proper way anal intercourse is supposed to be performed. It had taken forever for me to explain to her about my painful experiences and the things I had endure whenever I was used in that manner by the elder.

I couldn’t find it within myself to address the man as their grandfather when I talked to them about him, specifically in those particular terms, and I know now that he was never my Master. He was my jailer, my abuser, and most of all a sick and extremely unhappy person. A part of me wished that he had suffered something more severe than a heart attack upon his death, and another part of me rejoiced that he is gone and I am free.

With my new found freedom and the shroud of his unhealthy brainwashing slowly leaving me to form my own opinions and beliefs about myself, I find myself desiring Kamal with everything in me. There were signs even for me to see that if I wasn’t so skittish then maybe one day Kamal would approach me as a love interest. I vowed to myself that I would try my best to be the man he sees when he looks at me, when he tells me over and over again that I am beautiful. Grasp and hold onto the way my heart flutters when he calls me little one.

I released another sigh and brought my bare feet off the seat of the chair, and dropped them onto the plush carpet. I ‘d only managed to slip into my robes today after my bath since everyone was the their work. I chose to have breakfast in my room and stay out of everyone’s way. I faced the dark computer screen in front of me and swiped my finger across the mouse pad

to wake it up. I stared at the colorful letters that made up the name of the search engine. I couldn’t help but to once again look around my room for any potential witnesses to what I am seriously considering about doing.

Gosh, my hands shook and my heart was in my throat as I typed in the damning phrase of what I was looking for in that blue rectangle in the middle of the computer screen. I finger hovered over the enter button and I sat there and wondered what in the world was I doing? My curiosity won out over my modesty. I quickly pressed the button before I chickened out and buried myself in the middle of my bed, hiding my utter embarrassment under the folds of my comforter.

The images that flooded the wide monitor almost had me falling out of my chair. Picture after picture of men in intimate to downright mind boggling positions as one penetrated the other’s nether regions was a sight to behold. One hand slapped over my mouth to smother my shocked cry and the other shot out and closed the laptop altogether. I could feel my heart and my rigid erection pounding away in perfect synchronization to one another. It was as if the two pulsing beats were connected.

I removed my hand from my mouth and breathed deeply allowing my heart rate to slow a little. My cock refused to deflate and it throbbed instantly underneath my robes. I slowly got my feet and hissed as the cotton material rubbed over the sensitized cap of my member. I hobbled into my bathroom and opened the cabinet over the vanity. There were bottles and bottles of exotic oils on the shelf. Exotic fragrances Kamal had bought for me to use on my skin.

Yasmin had explained about having proper lubrication not only to ease penetration, but to make the whole process of touch and friction easier on the softer skin around the groin and anal areas of the body, especially for gay men. I pulled a bottle of peppermint oil off the shelf and uncapped it. I poured a bit on the back of my hand and rubbed the fluid into my skin.

If I came this far, I might as well go the whole mile and gain a new life experience. Goodness, was I really going to attempt this? I looked up at my reflection in the mirror and shook my head to flick my hair out of my eyes. Yes, yes I was, many of men do this on a daily basis. Yasmin had said it’s healthy and normal. How would I teach a future love interest to please me if I didn’t know what I like in the first place. She had quietly encouraged, “self loving,” so to

speak in order to help myself in the healing process. To gently touch myself and learn to take pleasure from something that I’d associated with pain and something to be ashamed of.

Oh my, I straightened my spine and recapped the oil and carried it back into the bedroom. I looked at my computer desk and chair and wondered what was the best way to do this? Did I sit in the chair at the desk, or would it be better to move the computer to the bed and prop myself up. I let my trembling fingers wander down my abdomen, and I pulled my bottom lip into my mouth as my fingertips tapped over leaking tip and I gasped in response to how good it felt. So unlike the painfully tight fist threatening to rip the turgid flesh from my body.

Immediately, I shook my head to get rid of those dark thoughts. This was about learning to pleasure myself. Taking a moment to experience the gentle touch of my own hand. I made my decision as I threw the bottle on the bed and walked over to the desk to retrieve the computer. I carried the device to the bed and set it to the side. I opened the cover and brought the images back up, and tried my best not to blush as I studied them one by one.

I could feel a tingling sensation begin in the pit of my stomach, and my balls quivered in between my thighs. Gosh, I wasn’t even touching myself and I already felt dizzy to pleasure. I pulled my robe over my head, dropped it on the floor, and hissed as the cool sheets came into contact with my heated skin as I stretched out and made myself comfortable on the bed. I found that some of the pictures were labeled GIF, or they had a picture of a video camera in the corner of the image. So, once again I glanced around my room before clicking on the icon.

Suddenly the room was filled with sounds heavy breathing and moaning as one man slowly plowed his cock in and out of another man. The man on the bottom was holding his legs to his chest by the back of his knees exposing his glistening entrance to the camera and to his lover. I couldn’t tear my eyes off the wonder in front of me as I watched on. My hands blindly tapped the bed in search of the bottle of oil.

I found it and quickly uncapped the vial and poured a copious amount in the palm of my hand before I put it on the bedside table and rubbed my palms together. The smell of mint permeated my senses as the oil warmed on my hands. I reached down and slowly wrapped my slick fingers around my length. I managed to tear my gaze away from the computer to watch my

own hand on my rigid flesh. The people in the video continued to groan and so did I as I squeezed my shaft and gave myself one luscious pull from root to tip.

Oh my goodness, how could something feel so good. It was like the tips of every nerve ending in my body was wired to what I was doing to myself. I completely forgot about the computer as my hand moved faster and faster on my shaft. My wide eyes were glued to the scene going on between my legs. My breath stuttered pass my lips, and my heart threatened to beat right out of my chest. My gaze flicked over the screen once again and stayed riveted on the stretching of the man’s anal ring around the girth his lover’s thick penis.

I took a chance, while I was pumping myself with one hand, I brought my legs up and reached for that striated star in between the globes of my butt. I moaned out loud before I could catch myself as my finger rubbed over the sensitive flesh. I applied a little pressure and I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from screaming. My balls felt like they suddenly exploded, my cock jerked in my grasp, and I watched fascinated and almost horrified as milky white fluid spurted like a geyser from the tip of the mushroomed cap. The thick fluid spilled over my fingers and pooled in my hair surrounding the base of my shaft.

My mouth opened in a silent scream as my body convulsed. Nothing in the world could have described how I was feeling. My entire body was in the grip of some primal ecstasy and the only thing that pierced my level of consciousness was the fact the my room door was suddenly pushed open, and Kamal said my name a moment before he looked up. His eyes went wide when he truly saw me and what I was doing. His words stopped mid sentence, his entire body stop mid stride as he continued to stare at the vision I must have made.

I felt my whole body ignite in a nuclear worthy reaction as I flushed, totally and irrevocably embarrassed to the very core of my soul. I strangled squeak left my mouth as I rolled off the other side of the bed taking the covers with me. I didn’t care about the computer slipping onto the floor as I made a mad dash into the bathroom. I locked the door, hopped into the tub, and curled up into a fetal position before burying myself in the folds of the thick comforter. I prayed for the earth to just open up and swallow me whole. Oh my goodness, what must he think of me now?

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Kamal…

(Jameel’s Bathroom)

The bathroom door slammed behind his retreating back with a resounding bang, and the locked clicked into place with a sound of finality. I was left standing in the open doorway of Jameel’s bedroom with one foot still propped in mid air to take step further into the room. What I walked into had rendered me speechless, every cell in my body froze with surprise. My eyes were still glued the spot on the bed where I’d just witnessed the most erotic, and the most breathtaking sight I’ve been blessed to see.

My foot lowered to the ground and I winced as the sensitive skin on my rock hard shaft brushed against the tight fabric of my underwear, and the teeth of my zipper pressed into my turgid flesh. I firmly held onto the door frame with one hand, and my fingers of my other hand wrapped tightly around the door knob. I didn’t trust my wobbling knees to hold me upright. My head spun with the rush of blood leaving my brain and pooling in my aching groin. My nostrils flared as I desperately tried to drew air into my depleted lungs. I was almost overcome with Jameel’s unique scents of sweet spices with the underlying tell tale hint of musk.

Once a healthy supply of oxygen was restored to brain, all of my synapses fired at once, and I was almost brought to my knees. My cock throbbed so hard behind the restraints of my clothing. I willed myself away from the door and I slowly made my way into the room. I made sure to close and lock the door before gingerly making my way across the carpet to pick up Jameel’s laptop. The poor baby, he’s most likely mortified beyond belief right about now. There was no doubting it with the way Jameel literally flew off the bed and retreated into the bathroom. I just hoped and prayed that he didn’t stuff himself into the linen closet again.

What was I going to say to him to make him feel better and put his inquisitive little mind at ease about this entire situation? He was only indulging in something every healthy male and sometime females spend hours on end doing once we have come to realize how good self pleasuring and masterbation can be. There’s absolutely nothing for him to be embarrassed about.

I’m just glad that it was me who had come through that door and not one of the girls coming to drag him off to wherever, to do whatever somewhere in the house. Turning the laptop around to see the screen, I was met with the image of one very well endowed man plunging his thick rod into the glistening stretched hole of his bed partner was frozen on the screen. Again, my unyielding member twitched as if it was begging for some sort of attention.

I shut down the computer and placed it on the rumpled sheets. Then I drew a deep breath to center myself. I knew it was a futile attempt to calm the desire racing hot through my veins, like liquid fire. I ‘m only human after all, and the attraction I’ve been feeling for that beautiful boy cowering behind the bathroom door has steadily grown into something way more since the day I looked into those frightened brown eyes of his.

The sensually explicit image of him lying amongst the pristine white sheets in such an intimate position was going to be forever burnt into my brain. Calling to me whenever I close my eyes like those mythological Sirens calling unsuspecting sailors from the sea, luring them in with their beauty and their hypnotic voices to whatever the Fates has waiting for them.

Tapping on the door with enough force for him to hear it, I called out. “Jameel, are you alright?” I waited to see if my little cutie would answer me. I’m sure he wasn’t going to, so I wasn’t too surprised when my question was met with nothing but silence.

“Hey, it’s okay, little one. I’m sorry I didn’t respect your privacy. I should’ve knocked and waited for you to tell me to enter or open the door. You were doing something very personal in the privacy of your own room, and you have nothing to be ashamed of, nor should you feel embarrassed about doing it either.” I tried to coax him out again, but I was still met with nothing but total silence.

So, I performed a little trick my siblings and I used to do when we were tormenting each other at bath time when we were kids. I quietly jiggled the lock, then pressed the tiny button on the underside of the knob and just like always, the lock spring clicked back into the open position. I entered the darkened room, the only lights illuminating the space was the decorative muted scones on the wall by the vanity mirrors. I made a beeline for the linen closet and I quietly opened the door to nothing but the neat assortments of bath blankets and other body and face towels.

My brow furrowed as I spun around on my heel and looked around the room wondering where he could be, then I heard it. A little whimper coming from the area of sunken bathtub. I made my way over and sat down of the lip of the gigantic tub and sure enough, a ball of comforter covered Jameel was huddling in the middle of the tub. His delectable body was completely hidden under the blanket’s voluminous folds.

“Are you going to speak to me ever again?” I whispered and gently tugged on one end of the comforter. All that got me was a firm wiggle from side to side before the mountain blankets once again went still. “I’m taking that as a, no.” I teased and tugged at the other end of the blanket again only for him to stick one of his little hands through the folds and bat my hand away from the bed linen.

I had to bite my lips to keep myself from laughing out loud when Jameel scooted a little further away from me, and once again buried his exposed limbs back under the blanket. I could only shrug my shoulders because my little beauty gave me no choice in the matter. We were going to talk about this the very important step he had taken in his healing process.

Jameel needed to see that there is nothing wrong with learning what makes your body feel good. He needed to understand the significance of what it meant when he derived pleasure from something that he was brainwashed in believing was deviant behavior and therefore a sin in the eyes of Allah. I was amazed that despite the excruciating abuse that was heaped upon him, Jameel has made a very important step in his recovery. Some victims of violent sexual abuse will never be able to associate or take any pleasure in anything sexual in nature.

After kicking off my shoes, I swung my legs over the side of the bathtub, bent down and used two hands to push Jameel’s stiffening body, blanket and all, over a little bit more to give my much larger frame some room to lay down next to him. I was probably sending the poor thing into in panic, but right now my diplomacy was shot all to hell, and I had to touch him in some way, shape, or form.

There was brief tug of war with the blanket which of course, I naturally won, and his riotous curls emerged followed by his cute little frowning face. His eyes were centered somewhere on my chin and he had the most adorable pout on those sweet cherry lips. Damn, if I wasn’t tempted to lean over and capture them, to see if he tasted as sweet as he looked.

I almost banged my head against the tub and I stifled the frustrated growl threatening to rumble out the back of my throat. This is not the time to let my lower head take over and rule the practical sense my upper head. Down boy! I mentally demanded my misbehaving shaft into compliance. Of course my mini-me twitched and pumped another copious amount of precum as if outright challenging me for control.

I chose to it my wayward organ and instead, I turned to the man that has been occupying my every waking thought lately. “I’m sorry, little one. I didn’t mean to intrude. I should have closed the door and left you to your privacy when I saw what you were doing, but Lord help me you looked so stunning like that, you had me completely enthralled.” He confession came tumbling out of my mouth and I almost slapped my hand over my mouth like a little kid who said something he wasn’t supposed to. Fuck, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I was going to get all philosophical and shit, and explain how it’s the natural body’s urges to seek pleasure and blah, blah…

I felt rather than saw Jameel move up to rest himself on his elbows since my eyes were clenched tightly closed. His sweet breath brushed over my cheek and I had to open my eyes to look up into his wide-eyed mocha gaze. I tilted my head because of his close proximity to further take in his beauty. I dared not move a muscle, his gorgeous face was mere inches away from mine. I found myself desperately wishing he would spare me and just lean in a little further and grace me with a kiss, one little peck on my lips just to satisfy my thirst for him.

“Y…You m…mean you don’t find me disgusting for doing that, for looking at that stuff online and getting excited by it?” He lowered his eyes and stuttered out the question in a pained little voice.

It felt my heart seized in the middle of my chest when I registered what he said. I raised a hand to his face and used my thumb and forefinger to tilt his head backwards, but he still wouldn’t look me straight in the eye. His cheeks heated in a furious blush and my shaft hardened even more. “Jameel, look at me.”

He raised his uncertain dark chocolate orbs to mine and I didn’t let his gaze waver away from mine. “Do you trust me little one? I hope you know that I’d rather pour gasoline all over

myself and gleefully light the match rather than cause you a second of pain, you know that right?”

He studied for me a long moment, and my every fiber of my being paused as I waited for his answer. He lowered his eyes for a second and when they flashed back up to mine, they held a look of such fierce determination and conviction, I almost shouted with joy right then and there.

“I trust you, Kamal.” He quietly stated. There wasn’t even a slight quiver in his voice. A shiver of delight skipped down my spine at the sound of my name whispered pass his kissable lips. I had to close my eyes and gather myself for a second. I felt like I was on the verge of coming all over myself and he hasn’t even laid a finger on me yet.

“Then trust and believe when I say that nothing about you that will ever disgust me. This is how I feel about seeing you like that. The way you were sprawled out on that bed was like a gift, a stunning feast for my eyes.” I gently took his little hand and I watched as his beautiful eyes went as wide as I pressed the palm of his hand to my throbbing member. I gently guided his hand over my entire length, arched my back, and groaned so he could see the full effect he has on me with just the touch of his dainty hand.

I let his hand go and I smiled up at him when he didn’t immediately remove it. He curled his slender fingers around my girth and gave me a gentle squeeze. My eyes almost rolled into the back of my head. I almost laughed when he slowly withdrew his hand but gave my overheated crotch a little pat of affection before smiling timidly up at me.

“I’m not asking you to go any farther than touching, sweetness. I just needed not only to hear how I feel about you. It also wanted you feel the effect you have on me, the effect you’ve had on me ever since you looked up at me in that little room where my grandfather tried to hide you away. I have deep feelings for you, Jameel. I want more than I can ever say, but I will never throw myself at you, or force you to do anything you don’t want to do.” I reached up and brushed away the stray tear that leaked out the corner of his eye.

“Jameel, you have a long way to go before you are over the nightmares of what that old man has inflicted on you. You grew up believing that your own sexuality is a sin and it’s wrong. Even our culture and the religion of our Kingdom says a man loving a man as he would love a woman and vice versa is an abomination, but I can’t help who I am by birth. I can’t help but to

love who I love. That is the simple truth for me, but I don’t want to my beliefs to influence you in any way. You have spent years in captivity being told what to do, how to think, and just the thought… Just the thought is a bit too much for me to comprehend sometimes.”

I sat up and pulled the now sobbing young man onto my lap, blankets and all, for I couldn’t help myself. “Take your time, form your own opinions, study the world, and know that I am here for you in any capacity you want me to be. I never want you feel that you’re obligated to me or my family for anything. This life is yours to do with as you please. Everyone is here to help you, and as I said, no one in this household, especially me is disgusted with anything about you. We are all in awe of you, because you my sweet are a survivor. You’re stronger than any of us in this house and you have proven it. You need wear your scars as a badge of honor, not of shame.” I hugged him close and he hiccuped and tucked his head under my chin.

I don’t know how long we sat curled into one another. With me rubbing soothing circles up and down his back. My body screamed at me for release, to find my relief in his supple body, but I would never do that. Jameel has to come to terms with his past, settle into his present, and see at least the beginning of his path into the future. I will not use him like the old man did for the sake of my own pleasure. I want his heart, all his affection and every ounce of love he has to give, because he already has all of me.

Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Kamal

(The Sisters top is gorgeous actress Ameera Al Taweel my idea of Farrah. Bottom Left Priyanka Chopra, my idea of Nasim, and Yami Gatum, my idea of Yazmin.)

It’s been several days since I’d discovered Jameel in a delicate position in his room and I swear my dick has yet to go down. I’ve practically rubbed the damn thing raw, and I’m sure there is not an ounce of come left in my balls, and still the damn column of flesh refuses to cooperate with me. I have taken to wearing my robes instead of Western dress pants and shirts around the house in my desperate attempt to hide my raging hard on underneath the flowing material of my thawb. At the moment though, my raging libido was the least of my troubles.

My mother and my sisters were all huddled around the breakfast table excitedly chattering about taking a shopping trip into the city. My father was as usual stuffing food into his face with one hand while holding his computer tablet in the other. I was sure the thing was trending the latest stock values. He wasn’t paying the women the least bit of mind.

My brothers were also engaged in a not so friendly tug of war with the dish of what was left of Fatteh Hummus. They were not paying the ladies any attention either, but I was because the more they going on and on about taking Jameel with them to shop for clothes. He looked almost stricken by the idea. He had long since stopped eating and he sort of folded up into himself and I knew I needed to intervene. I got up from the table and held my hand out to Jameel and requested. “Ta’ala (Come with me).”

I tried not to puff my chest out with pride as he immediately placed his delicate hand in mine as I helped him to his feet. By now the women went silent and from the expression on their faces they immediately knew that they had unconsciously agitated the beautiful man that was now clinging to my land like it was a lifeline.

“Yrja eadhr lana (Please excuse us).” I gave my family a slight nod before steering Jameel out of the bright kitchen and down the hall towards his room.

He followed me without saying a word and the minute his bedroom door closed behind us, he let go of my hand and scurried across the room to his bed. He climbed up on the silken comforter and sat at the foot of his bed.

“Don’t agitate yourself little one, no one is going to make you do anything that’s going to make you uncomfortable. If you don’t want to go into the city to go shopping, you don’t have to.” I explained as I took a seat next to him. I made sure to sit close enough for my comfort but far enough away so that he doesn’t feel crowded. I was thinking that it was time to approach the subject of maybe having him see a psychiatrist, but the idea of finding someone here in Riyadh who will understand the delicate nature of what happened to Jameel as well as helping him to understand his homosexuality was almost impossible.

Culture and Religion ran deep in the Kingdom. Both topics are extremely taboo and a medical professional in this country, I feared would be greatly influenced by those two factors and they will try to break Jameel from the path of what they considered sin. They will make him feel like he is an abomination and I refuse to let that happen. He was traumatized at the hand of my grandfather for years. Jameel was repeatedly told that he cause of behind what the old pervert did to him, using his cruelty against the young man that he could hide his shame about what he thought was unnatural desires and use Jameel to slake those urges at the same time. As long as I still have breath in my body, no one is going to hurt this beautiful man ever again. Not if I can help it.

Jameel cleared his throat and peeked up at me before lowering his gaze again. “I…I want to be able to go shopping with the women, but I don’t want to face the people and their judgements. I don’t…” He started but then he stopped and hid his face by pulling up the material of his niqab over his head and hair. That was another thing that I felt caused him concern. His choice of clothing, my grandfather, may he burn in the eternal fires of hell, dressed him as a woman and Jameel found comfort in the yards of material. He used the to hide himself from the world.

His choice of clothing was like his security blanket, a place he could hide himself when he felt overwhelmed. My brothers and I have offered him our clothes and several of our male thwabs (robes), but he preferred the female abaya (outer robes) and niqab (headdress), I can see where it would cause a problem for him if he were to go out into the public. His distress over the situation was clear.

I scooted over closer to him and gently took hold of one of his trembling hands. “It’s okay, I understand and I am sure that my mother and sisters will understand as well. No one is trying to change you. If you are comfortable as you are then that is fine by not only me but everyone in this household. They just thought you might feel more comfortable in some of the western clothing my father and my brothers and I tend to wear instead of these traditional robes.”

Jameel nodded his head, although he was still hidden under the voluminous material. I wondered if it was the right time to broach the subject of what’s been on my mind over the past couple of days. Farooq was planning to head back to New York to oversee a problem that has occurred with one of their multiple business deals. He was going to be the one to go in order to give my father and I the time to finish dealing with grandfather’s estate and of course, the situation with Jameel and his future.

The idea that has been bouncing around in my head came back to me, I have been thinking that it would be more beneficial for Jameel to take back to New York or Los Angeles for professional help as well as getting him out of Kingdom and the oppressive culture here. Here in Riyadh, he will constantly reminded of his enslavement, as well as the ideal that his sexuality is something dirty and something to be ashamed of. Just the mere implication of being a homosexual or thought to be while out in the public eye, can cause him to lose his life. He needs to be free of this constant fear and stress. The more I thought about was the more I’m convinced to do it. I needed to speak to my parents about it. I have more than enough room at both of my homes in New York and there was also the family home in Los Angeles to accommodate him forever if need be.

Shaking my head, I already knew that girls would love for him to be close to them in Los Angeles where Farrah’s main offices and design studio was located. Yazmin was currently on the fence about choosing accepting her choices of residency programs in New York or Los Angeles, and Nasim was still at NYU, while Farooq and Hamid traveled between the two cities for business. I ran the offices and studio in New York for Farrah’s fashion label while Our Mother went wherever our father had to be, which was usually in New York as well.

Besides, I wanted to go back to the comfort of my own home and I think that the less rigid ideals of western culture is more accepting nature of homosexuality in the States would do Jameel a world of good. I just have to find out how Jameel’s feelings about the changes that going to States will surely bring. I’m not certain about the facts if he wanted to remain here where he was born and raised, not that the upbringing he received under the abuse that my sorry excuse of a grandfather had reaped on him was an ideal way of growing up at all.

“Jameel, I have something very important to ask you?” I said in an attempt to draw his attention back to me. I waited until those pretty brown eyes were visible once again when he peeked up at me from underneath the folds of his niqab.

“How would you feel if I say that I wanted you to come back to the United States with us. We have talked about you seeing a doctor to help you through the ordeal of what happened to you, and I know we have discussed finding someone here, but I don’t think that they will be of any help. I think that you need to experience life away from the Kingdom so you can see that there are people who are living their lives free to be who they are. People like us who have intimate relationships with other people of the same sex. I want you to see that there is nothing wrong with homosexuality. There is nothing wrong with loving someone who just happens to be the same sex as you.”

“Don’t get me wrong, there are still a lot of people everywhere, not just here in this country but all over the world that still think it is wrong to love someone of the same sex. The ignorant, intolerable multitude of people that try to use their Religion and other beliefs to say that it is wrong, but at least in America, there are laws that protect the LGBTQ community instead of laws that protect those who try to persecute us.” I explained and quietly waited for him to digest the information.

Jameel brow creased and his plump pink lips puckered out adorably as he though about the things I just said. “Will I stay with you if we go back to the United States? Is it like the places we looked at on the computer?” His quiet questions reached my ears.

Nodding my head, I replied. “Yes, we did look at some of the places on the computer, but you have to go there to truly experience what it is like, and yes, I would stay with you or vice versa. I already told you that I will always be there for you as long as you wanted me to be. We can make arrangements for you to see someone there to help you through the changes in your life and you can make the decision of what you want to do, and where you want to live and so forth. No one is rushing you little one. I just want to give you options and you can decide what you want to do. You already know that my entire family loves you and want you to be happy. You are a part of this family. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, I understand and yes I…I think I want to go to America. Will I have to dress like you and your brothers when I go?” He asked and I tilted my head to side while I studied his gorgeous face.

“I would say yes, it would be easier if you dressed in the western style clothing that the men wear in the States, but I say that only because it is what is considered the normal attire and it’s easier. But if you choose to dress as you are, then I am sure that is fine. It’s all about what you are comfortable with.” I explained and waited to see what he had to say.

“Okay, I get what you are saying. Do…Do you think that Farrah and your Mom will mind if I asked them to pick me up some trousers like yours and maybe some of those button up shirts you wear in the house?” He shyly whispered and I couldn’t help the smile that creased my face. He was too cute for words.

“I think that Mom and Farah would be ecstatic to choose something for you. I warn you though that Farrah might invade your personal space and measure you to with in an inch of your life for new clothes. There is nothing she likes more than shopping, and I’m sure that she’ll rope in the girls and their excitement will know no bounds.

Jameel graced me with a beautiful little smile. “I know Farrah starts flapping her hands like a bird whenever she asks to me about new clothes. I have a feeling that once I ask her, it will be a done deal. Yazmin has already started talking about what colors she feels would go well with my complexion. I had to look up the term on the internet to understand what she was talking about.” He giggled as he shyly admitted to me. I just had to shake my head, sometimes Jameel seemed so intelligent, he picked on things right away, but his knowledge base has been severely stunted while he was imprisoned and used for the old man’s abuse. Words cannot describe the burning hatred and anger that burned in my heart for the old bigot every time I think about what he has done to the delicate young man at my side.

The simple things and the knowledge we take for granted on a daily basis is brand new for him. It was like when I introduced him to using my laptop computer and he asked why we named the clicking device a mouse? He didn’t understand why the computer company was named after a fruit and it was so funny to hear him call the mouse a computerized rodent. Hamid, the idiot, had a field day with that one until our Mother had slapped him on the back of the head and told him to stop acting like an moron.

Jameel suddenly jumped and grabbed me by the hand. He pulled me off the bed and proceeded to drag me towards the bedroom door. “Hold on a minute, are you okay? Where are we going?” I chuckled as he continued to tug on my hand and I let him drag me back towards the kitchen only to see that there was no one there but Fatima, who was already preparing the ingredients for lunch. He waved at her before hauling me back down the hall towards the main living area.

“I want to ask Fatima about the clothes. I want to go and see New York and see all the things we saw on the computer. I want you to show me everything and I want to see where you live.” He said in an excited rush of words.

“Well alright then.” With his decision seemed to be firmly made. It was my turn to lead him through the house as we tried to locate my sisters in order to get Jameel ready to travel. I also began to make a mental note of all the arrangements that have to be made, the first thing would be speaking to my parents and getting the necessary travel documents for Jameel. I looked down on the excitement clearly written on his beautiful face, and I knew that I would move heaven and Earth to make sure that he got this opportunity.

The smile of delight almost split my face in two when we found the ladies of the house and Jameel actually let go of my hand and rushed over to Farrah. If she was surprised at his exuberance, she didn’t show it as she listened to his rushed words. I almost had to cover my ears when they all, in tandem, released excited squeals of excitement and rushed the poor boy out of the room to do exactly what I’d warned him about. I followed behind them at a much slower pace. I had to make sure he was alright with the girls invading his personal space in order to measure him for his new wardrobe. Speaking to my father about getting the arrangements made to go State side will have to wait until the girls are done their impromptu fittings.

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

(New York City’s Skyline)

Jameel

There were no words in either Arabic or English language that could’ve described the amazing sights that I’ve witnessed since we left Kamal’s family home yesterday morning. In my mind I’ve always understood that the El-Sayed’s are a very prominent and wealthy family here in the kingdom, but I’ve never given it much thought about it other than how fortunate I am that this they have taken me in and made me feel like I was a beloved member of their family. Their familial home alone would attest to their wealth, but as the convoy of luxury cars left the house and headed for the airport, I was reminded that they were not the average Saudi family.

The gleaming black luxury vehicles convoyed smoothly towards Riyadh King Khalid International Airport. There was barely a wait time when the officials checked the papers of those traveling before the vehicles were waved through the security gates onto a private tarmac. Needless to say that my face was glued to the glass and not even Kamal’s insistent urges for me to at least drink some warm tea or break my fast with one of his mother’s falafel pastries could take me away from the amazing sights and sounds.

The shimmering buildings and skyscrapers we passed were mind boggling, even when I went shopping with the girls for my wardrobe. I didn’t see much other than the marketplace and I had been too nervous about being in the open to take in my surroundings. It was another thing to see everything from the safety of the car. All the gleaming buildings and mixed with the street vendors, the men in their Thobes and the women and their flowing Abayas peppering the busy streets was a sight in itself. Arriving at the airport wasn’t so interesting, not until the convoy pulled up right next to a gleaming private jet with El-Sayed Industries on the side written in both English letters and Arabic abjad.

My feet had a mind of their own as they shadowed Kamal’s every step because my mind was so occupied with everything else. I watched as the people poured off the plane to handle the multitude of luggage packed in the car trunks. They all bowed their respect to Kamal’s parents as they shuffled past and we were politely led up a set of stairs into the jet and I found myself gawking at the interior of the plane all over again. If someone had asked me to describe it, I would say it looked like someone’s well appointed living room.

There huge flat screen televisions on the wall. Plush sofa and recliners, shiny center tables with live flower arrangements centered on top. Studying the beautiful arrangements, I wondered if the vases didn’t threaten to slide off the tables when the plane moved. I walked over thoroughly intrigued by the idea. I tentatively glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching before I gingerly reached out, used my finger, and poked the brass vase. It stayed in place, so I assumed that it was secured to the table somehow. With my curiosity satisfied I moved on to the next marvel that caught my eye while everyone else was busy situating themselves.

Kamal made his way to my side to make sure that I was okay. He led me over to one of the double reclining chairs by the window. He seated me in the one closest to the glass portal so that I can see what was going on outside. The flight crew joined us a few minutes later and they went through a list of rules and advice before wishing us a safe journey. The three men and two women disappeared into another area of the plane leaving only the family in the sitting area as we waited for the pilot to ease the plane onto the runway.

The girls were busy chatting amongst themselves, if you didn’t know them you wouldn’t be able to tell mother from daughter or sister from sister. They were dressed in the their Abayas fully covered from head to toe. The men were dressed as I was, in slacks covered by Thobe with our Keffiyehs securely in place on our heads. I felt more comfortable dressed this way, but I was told once we are in the air we were going to change into more comfortable western wear for the remainder of the flight.

Kamal had told me that the flight would take sixteen hours to reach New York. He’d made sure that my laptop computer and my books were within easy reach to occupy my time. He’s also advised for me to get some sleep because we were going to be traveling through different time zones and the trip can be disorienting to the body causing something called jetlag. The wait to get going was killing me. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think I was going to see anything other than those four walls of that dank little room where I was kept for so many years.

Reaching over, I laid my hand over Kamal’s and watched the handsome smile spread across his face. This man had given me more than he will ever realize and I would never ever be able to repay him for any of it. How do you repay someone for your freedom, the clothes on your back, the food you eat, this amazing opportunity of going somewhere other than where you were born. What can you give someone to thank them for saving your very life?

The plane’s engines roared to life and broke me out of my headspace. I sat straight up in my seat and literally stuck my face to the window. The pilots voice filtered through the speakers and I barely listened to the time and temperature and how high the plane was going to be flying and blah, blah, blah. My attention was on the fact that the plane was moving, it was moving, and we are finally on our way. I couldn’t sit still of my life depended on it. My head swiveled around to beam at Kamal, but then I remembered I was going to miss seeing the runway so I snapped my head back around to the window. I heard Kamal’s amused chuckle behind me but I didn’t care. We were on our way to New York.

My pulse rate went through the roof and I didn’t even register the fact that I was crushing Kamal’s fingers in a death grip as the pilot turned the plane on the blacktop tarmac. I swear I almost swooned when the jet glided to a gentle stop and just paused there. My head snapped around to face Kamal and he just smiled, leaned over towards me and whispered in my ear. “Wait for it.” My head snapped back around and I swear I released and excited little yelp when all of a sudden the engines engaged and the jet went careening down the tarmac picking up speed as we went with the landscape flashing by.

The pilot pointed the nose of the plane in the air and I was in total awe as the landscape slowly became smaller and smaller, clouds floated by the window and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head as he continued to ascended us into the brilliant blue skies above Riyadh. The skyscrapers that had been to awe inspiring to see from the ground were a fraction of their size before they slowly disappeared from view altogether. It was nothing but clouds and bright blue skies that could be seen for miles and miles. The pilot’s voice came back over the speakers and he went over the flight plan and our altitude. He predicted a clear flight path and soon the lights over our heads declared that it was safe to move around the cabin.

The girls squealed as one and in a flurry of black robes and chattering they disappeared to the back of the plane. I peeked over at Kamal’s father who was partially hidden behind a newspaper. He had an indulgent smile on his face as the women rushed past him. The servers descended into the cabin bearing trays of drinks and platters of food, and of course Kamal and his brothers descended on the poor servers like a pack of carnivorous wolves. I was too keyed up to eat, the butterflies in my stomach felt like hummingbirds with their wings flapping away but I knew I had to eat something. I graciously accepted the plate that Kamal handed to me and I almost burst out laughing that he’d chosen chicken fingers with fries and chocolate pudding with a vanilla milkshake.

Taking a healthy sip of my milkshake, I guess I should get used to having them on a regular in America if I so wanted. Excitement was still pulsing through my veins as I pulled out my laptop and waited for it to power up. Over the past few days I had looked up everything I could about New York and the El-Sayed’s business ventures there. I was struck dumb by the Farrah’s extraordinary clothing designs that were in high demand by people all over the world. It didn’t shock me in the least that the EL-Sayed import and export businesses were thriving and very much sought after. The companies had their hands in almost every corner of marketing, manufacturing, and software production.

Kamal had shown me pictures of his home located on the popular Fifth Avenue in the city itself. I couldn’t wait to see it. There is also the family homes both on Manhattan and their vacation home located in a place called the Hamptons. I’d scoured picture after picture of the popular spot and I was flabbergasted by the sheer size and opulence of the homes there. The El-Sayed house itself looked to be much larger than their home in Riyadh.

The girls returned and they were dressed fashionably but comfortably as if they were inside their own home. Farrah had her beautiful hair pinned up in a loose bun on top of her head, while their mother’s shoulder length hair gleamed straight and perfectly coiffed as she snatched the paper from her husband and neatly folded it and put it aside. The indulgent man just smiled at her before feeding her a piece of fruit from his plate. Huh, married life goals right there, I thought as I peeked over at Kamal who was presently trying to inhale his body weight worth of strawberry milkshakes. How he and his brothers kept those muscular physiques when they ate like food was going out of style was news to me.

With everyone occupied I took the chance to go and change my clothes. Kamal had suggested to keep it simple and comfortable with a pair of warm sweats. So I explored around until I found one out of three bedrooms that contained my travel bag. I slipped into the room and began the process of taking apart my Keffiyeh. I folded the material neatly before putting it way, next was my Thobe, followed by my slacks. I picked everything up including my dress shoes and placed them in their designated spot in my carry all. I found the sweatpants, the undershirt, the sweatshirt and the thick pair of socks Kamal had packed for me and it took no time at all to slip into the ultra soft and comfortable clothes.

Zipping up the bag I placed it back on the luggage stand next to Kamal’s things and I took a quick glance at the bed before checking my watch. It’s been just under two hours since we’ve taken off and I was feeling the excitement of last night and this morning slowly seeping out of my system. I guess I could take the nap Kamal had suggested, for a little while at least. I didn’t want to miss anything even if it was just watching the clouds go by. But I was feeling tired and I’m sure Kamal wouldn’t let me miss anything anyway. So I pulled back the push bedding and settled into the cool sheets. I swear as soon as my head hit the pillow I was out like a light.

The next time I opened my eyes, someone was carrying me back into the main cabin of the plane. I could feel the excitement floating in the air. I looked up into Kamal’s smiling face and he gently placed me in my seat and I rubbed my eyes before focusing back on him.

“Look.” He pointed out into the night through the window.

Leaning over, I saw my reflection first before my eyes focused on the glittering landscape below. I almost jumped in my seat when the pilots voice once again filtered through the speakers advising to take our seats, buckle in and prepare for landing ay New York’s LaGuardia Airport. Kamal had to do for me because I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the sights below me.

As the jet descended, I could clearly see the skyscrapers, a glittering bridge and even the lights of the vehicles littering the streets below. I pressed my face closer to the glass looking for the silhouette of the Statue of Liberty and I was disappointed I couldn’t see it but nevertheless, I turned my attention back to what I could see. I didn’t know whether I was laugh or if I was going to cry, but All Praises to Allah, I was about to set foot on American soil. I was in New York.

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

(Jameel’s bathroom, Kamal’s penthouse)

Kamal

Watching Jameel take in the sights as he swung his head adorably from side to side in the car was like seeing the city for the first time right along with him. I wasn’t surprised at all that he’d slept almost the entire plane trip to New York. He’d stayed up the night before unable to sleep because he’d been so excited to begin his journey. Even my father couldn’t help the indulgent smile that curved his lips as we all watched Jameel’s total fascination with everything from the interior of the jet to the clouds in the sky. I was happy, more like ecstatic that I’m able to provide Jameel with the opportunity to travel, to see people and places he wouldn’t normally be able to see.

If I was going to be totally honest with myself, Jameel’s innocent reactions pissed me off as well, or I should say the reasons behind why those simple everyday things are so wondrously new to him. Things people take for granted like skyscrapers, airplanes, and other people milling about in general. Every sight, sound, and smell was completely new to him. A young man of his age, these things should be normal. Even if he lived in a nomadic village in the middle of the desert, modern day creations shouldn’t come as such a surprise to him. I wasn’t mad at Jameel, I was furious at the reason why Jameel even has a lack of exposure to the world to begin with. When I think I couldn’t get any angrier at my grandfather, Jameel would look at me with absolute wonder in his gorgeous eyes over something as simple as a picture on a website and my fury at the old man would return with a vengeance.

It’s made my whole family acutely aware of the depravity in which the young man had lived in for so long before the old tyrant did us all a favor and dropped dead. The fucking bastard, I should’ve had him exhumed and burned his body to ashes for his sins. But that was only affect his physical remains. I can only hope that his soul was roasting in fires of hell for all eternity or what he has done to Jameel.

By the time the car pulled up to the entrance of my apartment building, Jameel was completely knocked out. My parent’s and sisters had taken separate vehicles to their own homes, so it was just Jameel and I who headed into the heart of the city and towards my penthouse apartment overlooking most of Central Park. I tried my best to gently wake up my sleeping beauty, but the excitement of his journey has finally taken it’s toll on Jameel. I left the handling of the luggage to my driver, Kian and the doorman while I slid from the car and gently lifted Jameel’s sleeping form into my arms and carried him inside.

Dave, the night security guard rushed ahead of me towards the elevators and pushed the button and I nodded my thanks as I swept by him. Jameel had gained some much needed weight during his stay with us so far, but even with the added pounds it was no hardship for me to carry him around. I waited for Kain to step onto the lift with our luggage and then we were on our way up to my apartment.

God, I’ve missed this city and everything about it. I don’t mind visiting my Saudi home, but I much preferred the freedom of the westernized world. The peace of being able to be myself, the autonomy of being able to love whomever I wish to love, to do what I want to do, and to just be without the worry of offending the rules, religion, and culture immersed in the people surrounding you. For me, taking away that freedom away from me would be like sentencing me to death.

Jameel released an adorable little snuffle and he snuggled closer into my chest as the lift came to a silent halt on the top floor. I couldn’t help the smile that curved my lips at the thought of sharing the less rigid, rule imposed lifestyle with Jameel. I mean, there will be judgemental people everywhere you go in life, but not the oppressive restrictions and gut wrenching fear for your very life if it ever came to light that you are a homosexual person living in a region where the culture known for being dangerously homophobic.

I truly believe that having Jameel here in New York will help him heal faster than he would have even with professional help back in Riydah. My homeland is known to be one the most oppressive places in the world. Yes, Jameel will be better off here in the city that never sleeps.

Kain opened my front door and a sigh of relief escaped my lips as I stepped over the threshold and into my beloved apartment. I wished Jameel was awake so that I could see his reaction to my living space through his eyes. Walking straight through the foyer, I turned down the hall leading towards the bedrooms. My housekeeper had already prepared the apartment for our arrival when I had contacted her earlier in the week to let her know that I was returning stateside and I was bringing a guest who would be residing with me.

The guest bedroom was immaculate and the floor to ceiling windows were spotless. The view looking over the city’s skyscraper’s twinkling lights was breathtaking as usual. I can’t wait for Jameel to see it first hand instead of in pictures on his computer. I managed to wrestle the comforter aside and placed Jameel on the bed. After removing most of his clothes and his shoes, I pulled the covers over his slender form and dimmed the lights in the room before pulling the door up but not closing it all the way. I didn’t want him to be scared if he woke up and found himself in unfamiliar territory.

By the time I returned back to the main foyer, Kian had already departed after neatly leaving the bags by the front door. I’ll deal with them later on or in the morning. I made my way into the kitchen and turned on the lights. At this time of night I didn’t need coffee, but I wanted something warm in my stomach before jet lag set in and knock me on my ass. Traveling through so many different time zones was never one of my favorite thing to experience.

Mrs. Kaplan had really gone all out when she restocked the groceries. A little of everything was on hand, and I couldn’t help my delight as I found the simple blue and white canister of Swiss Miss hot chocolate mix with marshmallows. Like a giddy little kid, I snatched the canister from the cupboard shelf and trotted off towards the refrigerator to get the milk and whipped cream. Soon I had a steaming mug of chocolate goodness in my hand after returning the items I used to mix my warm bit of comfort back to their prospective places.

Making my way to my room, I kicked off my shoes with another heartfelt escaped me and took a sip of my drink. My mind was too fuzzy to go over all the plans I had in place for Jameel, so I just set the mug on my nightstand before reaching for the buttons on my shirt. I shrugged out my clothes as I walked into my closet. I opened a few drawers pulling out a comfy pair of sweatpants and a simple white shirt. Once I was dressed I dropped the clothes I’d been wearing in the hamper and trudged back into my bedroom. My king size bed was a thing of beauty as I turned back the heavy comforter and tiredly climbed into bed.

Propping myself up on few pillows I reached for my hot chocolate and my cell phone. I sent my family a group text letting them know that we’ve arrived home safely and Jameel was settled comfortably into bed. My eyes started to seriously droop and I found myself sliding further down into my sheets. I quickly gulped down the last of my drink before I head hit my pillow and the last thing that registered in my exhausted mind was the comforting smell of my own bed.

My brain slowly came back online sometime later on the middle of the night and I wondered what in the hell had woken me up. I sluggishly lifted the pillow off my head and looked around my darkened bedroom trying to figure out why I was awake, that’s when I heard it. A muffled cry that had me suddenly shooting up out of bed and running down the hall to my guest room. I pushed through the door and headed straight for the bed only to find it empty.

“Shit, where’s Jameel.” I thought as my head swung from side to side, my eyes scanning entire the room. I wondered if he’d woken up scared in new surroundings and took to hiding like he usually seemed to do when he’s overwhelmed. Scratching my head, I made my way over to the en-suite bathroom and sure enough there was a light shining from underneath the door. I learned my lesson the first time from walking into his room unannounced and graced with a sight I’ll never ever be able to forget, and as much as I wanted to have the privilege to see him in such an erotic display again, I didn’t want a repeat of how embarrassed he was at being caught in such a private act.

“Jameel, are you okay?” I asked as I gently tapped on the bathroom door while praying that he was alright in there.

It took few seconds before the door was thrown wide open and the excited little cutie all but dragged me into the bathroom. He spun me around to face the wall to wall windows and squealed his delight while clapping his hands together. “It’s amazing. I can’t wait to take a bath. It’s like your bathing on top of the world.” He gushed in awe as he raced over to the tub and turned on the water faucet.

“You’re going to take a bath right now. In the middle of the night? Aren’t you tired?” I chuckled as I watched him all but vibrate with unbridled joy.

He bounced over to the basket containing a plethora of body washes and bubble baths. I watched amused as he began sniffing the different scents. He chose one and poured a little in the churning water. He just nodded his head repeatedly to answer my question and began to pile a stack of fluffy towels on the warmer next to the tub. I decided to indulge him a little, so I walked over to the wall and watched as those big brown eyes grow round with awe as I dimmed the overhead lights. I flipped a switch and the inground candle features twinkled and the one way windows lit the background with the cityscape view.

“Enjoy your bath, don’t stay in for too long. I’ll make you something to eat. Come find me when your done.” I said as Jameel just nodded his head again while watching the fragrant bubbles forming in the pristine white tub. I couldn’t help but smile as I exited the bathroom. That boy had a thing for bubble baths and I was more than happy to cater to whatever it is that had the capability to make him happy.

Chapter 19

https://youtu.be/R8iqEfje7Aw

Chapter 19

(Kamal’s kitchen)

**For some reason when I was writing this chapter, this song popped into my head and I thought it fit. So please enjoy Fantasia’s “When I See You.” Merry Christmas to all of you and Happy New Year, thank you for all your support and I hope the New Year brings you much happiness, success, health, love, and joy. xoxo, Dianna

Jameel

Spreading the Argan oil moisturizer over my already dewy skin, I took one last wistful look at the masterpiece that was Kamal’s bathtub. Taking a bath in it’s sunken decadence was like swimming in a personalized pool sitting on top of the world. I wrapped myself in the warm, oversized fluffy bathrobe and stood there for a minute to let the heat of the material soak into my chilled body. Giving all thanks to Allah that I’m alive and fortunate enough to reach this point, and this place in my life. A place I couldn’t even have imagined mere months ago. I’d truly thought I was going to live out a miserable existence in that filthy room. Having to endure the cruelties that man visited upon me until I died. Sometimes I had wished for death, but Allah had other plans for me and I should have never questioned my fate.

Even though Kamal was related to the man by blood, I couldn’t bring myself to hold it against him or his family for my years of abuse in that house. Not when they’ve been so good to me. They had no clue how depraved the man was. They had no idea I’d even existed, locked away in that prison and treated like whore he’d called me time and time again. Forced to endure atrocities no other human to visit on another person. I brushed the tips of my fingers over the scars on my groin. Kamal hadn’t been disgusted with them, he’d said they shouldn’t bring me shame. He’s emphatically expressed that the multiple scars represented the fact that I was strong, I was a survivor, that I’d been to hell stared the devil in the face and lived to tell the tale.

But what a tale it was. I tied the sash to my oversized robe and looked at my reflection in the mirror. Kamal had explained a lot of things to me. We sat for hours and hours talking about my ordeal at the hands of his grandfather. He told me that I shouldn’t be ashamed of the things that happened to me because it was more than obvious I didn’t have any control whatsoever in that house. I was the victim of a very sick, and possibly a mentally ill person. Kamal had painted a picture so vividly alive, so all consuming about life in general. He shared his life story with me, his trials and his triumphs. He’s shared his deepest most private feelings about being a man who is attracted to other men. The term he used was gay, or a homosexual man.

Kamal had pulled up website after website and showed me that there are plenty of people who happened to love others of the same sex. There were some who didn’t like either sex or people who loved both men and women. I was shocked to my core when I learned that there were men and women in this vast world that felt that they were born in the wrong body, some of them have even gone through medical treatments and surgeries to change themselves to fit who they felt they were on the inside. Then there were some who just felt more secure dressed as the opposite sex. I could identify with that, I was more comfortable wearing my hijab and my abaya than I was wearing Americanized male garments like slacks and shirts, or even the men’s lightweight traditional cotton thawb.

There was so much information, so many things I had idea about or knowledge of. So many sights, sounds, and general things in one’s everyday life I’ve missed out on. There are days that I feel so inadequate, so uneducated, and simple that it did in fact make me feel ashamed. But once again, like an angel perched on my shoulder, Kamal was there to reinforce that I have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. He’s even caught me in a very uncompromising position and instead of making feel like some kind of deviant, he’d climbed into that tub with me and made me feel like I was the most desired thing in his life. Sometimes I would catch him looking at me with those dark eyes of his smoldering with some internal fire, and my skin tingled not with shame but for other reasons altogether.

When he looked at me like that, my body felt like it was on fire and nothing but his touch can soothe the flames he ignited under my skin. My hand shot to my groin as my flesh thickened with the memory of how Kamal’s big body felt pressed against my back when we had lain in the tub after he caught me pleasuring myself. I recalled the feel of his turgid, male flesh pulsing against me and I almost groaned out loud as my body shivered with excitement.

A quiet knock on the bathroom door yanked me out of my thoughts and had me quickly straightening the robe and making sure the sash was secure around my waist. Not a second later, the door cracked open and I heard Kamal asking me if I was decent.

“Yes, you can come in.” I replied and prayed my face didn’t give away where my thoughts were dwelling just moments ago.

He stepped into the room and for the first time tonight I paid attention to something other than the breathtaking view outside the floor to ceiling windows and the grandeur of the bathroom. Kamal was wearing nothing but a thin pair of light blue, cotton pajama pants. They rode almost indecently low on his tapered hips, accentuating that prominent V indentation of his muscular lower abdomen. I felt a fresh burst of saliva pooling in my mouth as my eyes shamelessly followed the trail of dark hair that sprouted just below his belly button and led downwards under the waistband of his trousers.

My flesh throbbed between my legs and began to fill underneath the folds of my robe. I knew I should look away, my head was screaming for me to avert my eyes elsewhere, but it was like they had a mind of their own and they remained glued to the larger than life man across the room.

I watched his sculpted chest rise and fall as he took a deep breath seconds before he said. “Jameel, I’m only human, and it’s very trying for me to remain responsible when it comes to you. You can’t look at me like that, please. Seeing… Um… Nevermind. I just came in to check to make sure you didn’t drown yourself in that tub. Come on, I made us an early breakfast. We can discuss and make some plans for your future while we eat.”

Looking into his eyes, I so wanted him to finish what he was going to originally say before he brought up having made breakfast. I wanted him to reveal how my appreciating his enticing physique made him feel. I wanted to hear whether or not he still desired me like he did when we were locked together in the tub at his parent’s home in Riyadh. It was a heady feeling knowing that I affected Kamal just as much as he affected me. However, I will respect his wishes and try my best to do the things we discussed.

One of those lengthy conversations involved both Kamal and his sister, Yasmin point of view. They want me to meet with a specialized doctor, a psychologist was the term Yasmin used to describe her fellow doctor who was a friend to her. Someone who is specially trained to help me deal with things their grandfather had done to me. Both of the siblings said that it will help me get over it or deal with it, and to be honest I wasn’t sure if they were right. I’m not sure if I can talk to a total stranger about something so personal and private. I am not sure there is such a thing as getting over it. I’ll never forget it, but like Kamal said, I’m not going to let it scare me away from the blessings that have followed my entrapment. The old bastard’s death had been the catalyst that led Kamal and his loving family right to me.

Trying not to gape while walking into Kamal’s kitchen was almost impossible. One couldn’t help but to gawk at the room’s elegance. The pristine white marble glistened under the two orb-like chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the lights under the hood of the stove. The dark wood cabinets and the shiny stainless steel appliances just brought the entire room together. It was almost too perfect to eat in, but as Kamal pulled out one of the stools for me to sit on, and I saw that he did indeed cook a meal for us in stylish kitchen.

I looked at the spread he set out in front of me. There was a platter of light and fluffy pancakes, another platter of scrambled eggs, and meat links. I think he’d called them sausages back home in Riyadh. I watched as he arranged a little of everything on a plate and set it down on the place setting in front of me. I went to reach for the silverware next to my plate, but the sleeves of the robe covered my hands completely. I tried shaking them back, but they would slide right back into place, covering my hands.

Kamal chuckled. “Here let me help you with that.” His deep melodious voice again washed over my senses as he walked around the island counter and stopped at my side.

He held his hands up with the palm facing upwards and wiggled his fingers and nodded to me to give him my hands. My body took my free will away from me as I sat back and watched myself raise my hands to his. A sliver of heat tingled down my spine when his warm skin made contact with mine. I bit my lip to keep myself from moaning out loud and I clamped my thighs together and hoped and prayed my flesh didn’t give me away by tenting the fabric of the robe above my groin.

His dexterous fingers peeled back the fabric of voluminous robe. He fold each piece over the other and freed my hands. Once they were free I didn’t immediately drop them. I watched with wide eye awe as my fingers reached out and caressed both thick of pads of muscles on his upper chest. His skin was warm and smooth under my fingertips and not even the food in front of me could compare to his fresh clean masculine scent. I was close enough that if Id leaned forward, I could press my face into chest and just breathe him deep into my lungs.

I was so caught up with touching him, I didn’t notice the hiss that whistled through Kamal’s lips when I just continued to explore the alluring specimen of a man in front of me. When his hands came up and covered my exploring digits to stop their progression across his chest, my curious gaze snapped up to his and the way he was looking at me had my breath stuttering to a halt in my throat.

He lowered his face to mine until his forehead rested against my own. Kamal closed his brilliant, shimmering eyes and his lips parted a mere millisecond before he whispered. “I’m all for appeasing your curiosity little one, but at this time of night, with me dressed as I am and you wearing nothing underneath that robe, just knowing that would tempt the most patient of men. If I think it wouldn’t harm you, I would take you right there where you’re sitting and make you mine. But we have a very long road to travel before that can even become a possibility. So please sweetness, show me some mercy. Let’s eat and then we can get some more sleep before tackling the day ahead of us.”

By this point I didn’t know whether to be elated or embarrassed to have this man plead with me like he just did. I was in fact over the moon that my touch drove him to feel a fraction of what I feel when he just glances in my direction. I couldn’t verbally answer him, my throat had gone as dry as the desert from which we travelled from. So, I just nodded my head in agreement and Kamal opened those hypnotic eyes and smiled at me.

My heart fluttered in my chest and I had to press my thighs together once again to calm the rigid hard flesh valiantly trying to make itself known. I deliberately turned back to my food and began to eat. I had no clue what was happening between us. Why things were getting so intense now that we were here in New York. Kamal had stated that he didn’t want to hurt me by going with whatever it was that’s brewing up between us. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m no longer close to the place that was my prison for so many years. Maybe now I can finally felt that I can be free to be myself. Whatever it is, I just hope that it will only bring me closer to Kamal.

Chapter 20

Chapter 20

(The infamous Naked Cowboy in Times Square)

Kamal

It’s funny how you can live in a place like the world renowned New York City, almost smack dab in the heart of Times Square, one of the most famous locations in the world, and you take it for granted until you see it from someone else’s eyes. It’s been a little over three weeks since my family returned to America. Since that time, my parents, along with my brothers Farooq and Hamid have visited Jameel and I several times before returning to Los Angeles. Farrah and Yazmin remained in the city.

Farrah has immersed herself in her clothing line, and Yasmin returned began her residency at the hospital. They both have been wonderful, especially Farrah since we both work on the clothing portion of the family business. I’ve been devoting a majority of my time to Jameel, and she has graciously picked up my slack in the corporate offices. I still work via remote, but like I said. My main goal right now was making sure that Jameel felt safe and secure at all times.

It’s definitely a work in progress building up Jameel’s level of confidence in himself, but things were slowly progressing. I truly believed that by opening up a whole new world and exposing him to an entire range of different cultures, paired with his bi-weekly therapy sessions have worked wonders so far in setting him on the right path towards healing from the physical and psychological abuse my grandfather had heaped on the poor boy for years. My blood still ran red hot anytime my thoughts turned towards the old bastard and the atrocious acts he’d committed towards not only on Jameel, but also to his sacred religion, his family, and his lack of conscience over the years.

Dr. Talgar, Jameel’s therapist was a godsend. Yazmin had recommended him. He was one of the leading Psychologist on staff at New York-Presbyterian Hospital, where she was doing her residency training. After speaking extensively with the man, I’d felt he was more than capable in helping Jameel work through his unique circumstances. Not only was the man fully versed on the Islamic cultures and practices, and how those beliefs affects Jameel’s way of thinking, most importantly, he wasn’t homophobic.

The good doctor truly believed that love is love no matter who you loved. It wasn’t sin, nor was being attracted to someone who is the same gender as you a arbitrary choice. That above anything else that is what Jameel needed to understand and come to terms with. He needed to see that he isn’t an unholy, or an abomination. I know it’s easier said than done, especially if you had years of enduring abuse from someone telling you those lies on a daily basis and using your body in ways no one should to prove a point.

After Jameel’s last visit the doctor had suggested that it may be beneficial to start taking Jameel out into the world and amongst people. So far he’d been content to remain inside my home, swimming in the bathtub or watching multiple movies in the media room. Whenever we had to go to an appointment or leave the house, I always had our driver taking us where we had to go. Just last weekend Nasim had taken some time off from college and all three girls had tried to entice Jameel out for a shopping trip, but he had shyly declined and retreated to his safe haven, the giant tub in the bathroom.

At first, I thought that his love for bubble baths was the cause of his delight in spending hours taking long baths in my oversized tub, but I’ve since learned from attending one of Jameel’s sessions at his request was that he felt dirty at the hands of my grandfather. My heart shattered all over again when the gorgeous man admitted that he hadn’t been allowed to wash himself after being thoroughly and brutally used. Grandfather had his man servant do the honors and the sadistic son of a bitch had made the cleansing process as demeaning and as painful for Jameel as he could. The mere freedom of being able to wash himself whenever he pleased was like heaven for him.

It was during that session, I vowed I would do whatever it was necessary to make sure that Jameel would have whatever he wanted. I would move heaven and Earth to make him smile. I vowed that my own discomfort and my wants and needs would forever come second to this man. My neglected cock and my insatiable desire for the stunning beauty and the discomforts that came with denying my sexual libido was nothing compared to what Jameel had endured and survived. For him, if I was ever given the honor of touching him, of making him mine, then I would wait for eternity until he was ready. Until then I will endure it all just to see him free and content and secure in himself.

It had taken almost an act of God to get Jameel to walk out onto the street, but I’d finally managed to entice him out into the world. I began by taking just for walks to the bevy of nearby restaurants. My cutie loved his treats, it was amazing to watch him eat almost his slender body weight in food and never gain more than what he had already gained. He went from starved waif to a slender god. He’s gotten even more beautiful over the months of eating right and getting the care he needed.

As his anxiety eased, I’ve taken him to the museums, the trendy outdoor cafes, and it was a hoot when we were in the heart of Times Square to watch those dark chocolate eyes go wide as he turned I circles trying to take in everything at once. The huge billboards and monitors advertising everything and anything didn’t disappoint in all the flashy grandeur. I almost choked on my own spit when a staple of Times Square approached Jameel. Jameel’s mouth had gaped wide open when the Naked Cowboy strutted by him while wearing his signature tidy whiteys, his cowboy boots and hat while playing his guitar and a line of tourists following behind him.

Now most days I couldn’t keep him in the house. His favorite place was the Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art. It turns out that Jameel has a love of anything art. On one occasion we had stopped at the gift store in the Museum and he’d selected a drawing pad and a set of pencils, I’d taken a seat next to him on a bench and watched him create a very detailed drawing of one of the statues on display. His picture was so good, I had to buy him the best drawing set there was on the market. Who knew there were such choices when it came to drawing a picture. Everything from the type of paper to pencils, to even a little wooden man to help with creating images.

It was Jameel’s reaction to my gift, that made me feel like I was ten feet tall. When the set had been delivered, it had come in several boxes. Boxes that Jameel had open with exuberance, and with each reveal he squealed with delight and hugged the life out of me. Now whenever you saw him, he either had his iPad in his hands or his drawing pad. Some of his art he shared with me and some he kept to himself and I respected his privacy. His therapist was over the moon and congratulated me several times in finding a way for Jameel to boost his self esteem and find something to fully bring him out of his shell.

Today was another busy day, we’d spent the day being ferried out the Statue of Liberty. Jameel was in awe all the way up to the top. Thank god I’m in pretty good shape but even then I was winded by the time Jameel had dragged me up the last flight of stairs. In his excitement he hadn’t even broken a sweat as we ascended up the epic landmark. He’s taken picture after picture with his iPad and then he’s just held his head back and closed his gorgeous eyes and let the wind blow through his hair. He was a sight to behold and my cock had been ragingly hard for the remainder of the day. Going back down those damn stairs had been torture.

Dinner wasn’t any better and no matter how I ignored the organ, thought of old ladies and shriveled body parts, cold weather, anything and everything to try to get my stubborn appendage to behave, but nothing seemed to be working. Jameel was now lying on his stomach on the rug in front of me as he watched a movie on the big screen TV. The precise cut of his slacks did nothing to hide the curve of his mouth watering ass, my hard on pulsed anytime he laughed and rocked his shapely derriere from side to side. It was like being taunted with the thing you wanted most but it was just iches out of your reach.

Stifling yet another groan, I slowly got to my feet and readjusted myself. “Jammel, I’m going to shower. Holler if you need anything.” I said as he turned sideways and pinned me in place with those soulful brown eyes.

“Okay.” He replied as he gave me one of his sweet smiles before turning back to all the gunfire and explosions on the TV screen.

I couldn’t make it to my room fast enough. By the time my hand reached out for the doorknob of my bathroom door, I was already half naked. I unsnapped the button of my pants, unzipped, and with one shove, my pants and boxers pooled around my naked ankles. I kicked them away and almost sighed with relief as my heated swollen cock bounced free in the cool air of my bathroom. I turned on all the multiple jets in my walk in shower at all and waited until the steam billowed nice and hot around the room before stepping in.

A hiss of delight escaped my lips as my already over sensitized skin was pummeled from all sides by jets of hot water. My cock throbbed and my balls drew tighter to my body as I turned to let the water caress the length of my turgid flesh. “Fuck, yes.” I moaned. My eyes fluttered closed as I placed a hand on the tile in front of me while the other drifted down my abs. My seeking fingers glided through the trimmed hairs surrounding my cock, and I wrapped my fingers around my rigid length and gave myself a knee buckling squeeze.

My hips took a will of their own as they began rocking. My hard on slid effortlessly through my fist with the aid of the water running over my rock hard shaft. My thoughts all centered around Jameel. The way those hypnotic eyes of his pulled me in. Those perfect kissable lips and how they would look stretched as they wrapped around the girth of my cock. Would those gorgeous orbs go all dreamy and glazed for me as he sucked my dick? Just the thought of having him on his knees in front of me, the heat of his hot little mouth wrapped around my cock had my orgasm barreling down my spine like razor sharp talons ripping their way down the length of my body.

“Fucking hell!” I bellowed as my orgasm took me unawares, no build up, no tingling sensations of warning. Just an unexpected explosion of epic portions. Stars burst behind my clenched eyelids as the head of my cock exploded. My come painted the walls and splurged over my fingers as I struggled breathe and stay upright at the same time. My chest heaved and my body jolted with every gut clenching aftershock that rocked through me. The release felt so damn so good, but the intensity of it was almost borderline painful. I was afraid to let go of myself fearing any added stimulation. I even had to turn away from the jet of water washing the remnants of my orgasm from my shaft and the fingers still wrapped around the pulsating flesh.

It took me a few minutes intes before my body was able to consciously follow the instructions of my mind. I managed to wash myself from head to toe, turn off the water, and step out of the stall. I did a pretty decent drop drying off most of the moisture on my skin before sauntering back into my room on weakened legs. A pair of boxers, a t-shirt, and loose fitting pajamas and I was ready to watch another round of movies.

That release was just what I needed to better handle the close proximity with Jameel. He was temptation incarnate to me, but it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t even aware of the effects he has on me. I made a promise to him, to the universe and to myself. When he is ready, if he will ever be ready for anything sexual, then I could wait and give him the time he needed to heal and make that decision. So for tonight, with my body sated, I can easily focus on maybe a bucket of popcorn, some chocolates, and a movie marathon with my little cutie.

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

(Sexy Kamal)

Jameel

Gently patting the remaining moisture from my skin with the warm, ultra soft bath blanket I pulled from the heating rack next to the massive bathtub that’s like heaven to bathe in, I let a contented smile curve my lips. A sudden thought had me swallowing a giggle as I recalled Kamal teasing words about me washing the skin right off my body with the amount of baths I take during the day.

His jests didn’t bother me in the slightest, because I knew he understood the underlying reasons why I liked to indulge in taking long, soothing bubble filled baths in the mini swimming pool he called a tub situated in the middle of his bathroom perched high up in the sky. I can relax while soaking in the scented water and look down in the city below from of his extravagant condominium.

Walking over to the wall of mirrors perched over the double sinks and marble countertops, I picked up the hair brush and ran it through the length of my damp hair. I wondered once again if maybe I should cut it a little shorter. Nassim had cut it for me back in Riyadh when I’d first arrived at the El-Sayed’s home.

The thick, long dark brown almost black waves now reached my shoulder blades and the front flopped down over my eyes whenever I didn’t wear a headband or tie it back. I’d mentioned cutting it all off to Kamal recently, but he’d frowned at me and shook his head. He responded by telling me that long hair suited my face better and he liked it the way it was. Upon hearing that, I’d happily refrained from cutting it ever since.

Now, I may not have a choice, other than maybe cutting a little from the front to keep the hair out of my face. I rubbed a little styling product in my hands like Kamal taught me, and ran my fingers through my hair. I was going to wear it down this evening with a headband to keep my overlong bangs from blinding me. Kamal’s brothers were visiting and they decided to stay in tonight and order dinner instead of going to one of those trendy restaurants surrounding Kamal’s home.

Regret and guilt had almost choked me up when Kamal had mentioned their plans earlier in the week. He’d been quick to reassure me that their decision to stay in tonight had nothing to do with me and my ever present fear of the unfamiliar. He was adamant it was better to stay home where is brother’s were concerned because they all usually tended to compete against each other with everything, including drinking alcohol as well as consuming large quantities of food. They always had a point to prove, just to see which one of them can out do the other. He’d shrugged his shoulders and admitted it was childish of them, but he was also unapologetic about enjoying the time spent with his siblings.

I sort of envied the El-sayed offsprings their close relationship with each other. Over the years I’ve often wondered about my parents. I’d prayed more than once for Allah to end my shame and somehow reunite me with them when that man brutally used my body for his own sick pleasures. In a way, I’m glad Allah had turned a deaf ear to my desperate pleas. He had other plans for me and he brought me Kamal and his rest of his loving family. At first I couldn’t believe that they were related by blood to that evil man. The entire family had picked up all of my shattered pieces and attempted to put me back together again.

They had made it possible for me to begin the healing process. They have given me a new life altogether while helping me to believe that what he did to me wasn’t my fault, but I still suffered from the dreams and feelings of self doubt. There were times I still felt like I couldn’t get clean enough from the filth he spewed with his words and the shame he inflicted with his hands on my body.

It was still extremely hard to get hard to get over the negative emotions roiling in my gut sometimes, but I was happy to confess that the nightmares were only coming few and far in between now. I was actually able to close my eyes and sleep for an entire night without waking up in a cold sweat with my heart pounding so hard, I feared it was going to fly right out of my chest. Now my dreams were occupied mostly with all the wonderful things Kamal and I have experienced through his unwavering generosity. My mind exploded with all the colors of the rainbow as I dreamed about putting the pictures of all the wonders I’ve seen so far on paper.

Turning my eyes away from the mirror so I didn’t see the sudden tinges of pink heating up my cheeks, I tried my best not to think about the other things plaguing my dreams. The sensually erotic wanderings of my mind that no longer shamed me when they played through my head late at night and early in the morning. The dreams of having Kamal’s hands on my body doing things to me like I’d watched on other men doing to each other on the internet. Those sexal acts didn’t look painful, nor did they look degrading or wrong. The men involved actually looked like they were enjoying themselves and each other.

It was eye opening to see when Kamal and I ventured out in public and they were some same sex couples openly holding hands, kissing, or showing some kind of affection to one another outside in the open for all to see. They didn’t care and neither did the people around them usually rushing to reach wherever it was they were going. Those people had no fear of showing their feelings for one other, and watching them leaves me dumbstruck almost every time.

Kamal has even taken to holding my hand when we go out for walks or sightseeing around the city. He’s even taken me to his office, and Farrah or their other employees didn’t even bat an eye when Kamal had walked in with me practically tucked under his arm. There were several men there who had eyed Kamal like he was their last meal, some were even bold enough to come over and chat him up, almost pushing me out of the way in order to get closer to him.

While I’d stood there quietly confused about the possessive feelings and the subtle anger boiling under my skin, I’d immediately felt a whole lot better when Kamal had shifted his big body closer to mine, holding onto my hand the entire time as he refused offers to catch up or going out for drinks with those bold men.

Seeing the well dressed, cultured types who were vying for Kamal’s attention had made me feel inadequate and a little out of place at the time, but when Kamal turned to look at me and smiled at me like I was responsible for the sun rising in the morning, I couldn’t help the smug feeling of satisfaction watching those pretty boys realize that I was someone special to Kamal.

Shaking myself to get my thoughts back on track, I rushed and put everything I used in its place before opening the bathroom door and scurrying towards my closet. My room was directly across the hall from Kamal’s Master suite and movement out of the corner of my eye had me turning my head in that direction. The sight before me caused my whole world to come to an abrupt halt right then and there. My feet refused to move, and I think I even stopped breathing altogether.

Kamal was standing there, his olive skin glowing, fresh from his own shower. He was holding his cell phone to his ear, quietly talking into the device wearing nothing but a damp towel round his trim waist. His sculpted back was facing me and I could only watch totally transfixed as he bent over his huge bed reaching for something on the plush comforter. I had to bite my bottom lip to keep from groaning out loud when he dropped the towel, revealing the firm globes of his backside. He bent at his waist to step into a pair of black, form fitting underwear.

My feet were rooted to the spot, that was until he turned around. Now I had a full frontal view of his mouth watering body. His head was still lowered while balancing his phone between his shoulder and his ear, freeing his hands to adjust the impressive length of his cock into the soft cup of his briefs. It was then he raised his eyes and they landed square on mine.

An embarrassed squeak escaped my lips and I all but tripped over my own two feet trying to scuttle into my walk-in closet. I pulled the door closed and all but collapsed against the wall behind me. I could feel the heat of my blush scorching my cheeks, and I felt a little dizzy from all the blood rushing from my brain to my own engorged shaft.

” Jameel, are you alright? I’m sorry. I should’ve closed my bedroom door.” Kamal’s apologetic voice carried from outside my closet door.

“Um… I’m fine. Um… Let me get dressed and meet you in the living room.” I managed to respond without my jangled nerves leaking too much into my voice.

I heard the shuffle of his feet on the thick carpeting. “Okay. Again, I apologize if I embarrassed you.” He said before he walked away, leaving me to get ready for the remainder of the evening.

He may be sorry, and I guess I should be the one apologizing for gawking at him like a pervert, but to be honest I wasn’t sorry. That brief glimpse of him was just that, too short lived. I stood there holed up in my closet of all places, and waited for the feelings of shame and revulsion that usually accompanied any sexual thoughts I may have entertained towards a member of the same sex. The guilt that I was repeatedly told to feel about having such deviant desires for another man to take hold of me.

A few more seconds ticked away as I self analyzed my feelings. Slowly an elated smile spread across my face when I realized I didn’t feel any of those negative, heart breaking emotions weighing me down. What I was feeling was a totally different set of sensations, pin pricks of desire tingling through my body and pooling heat between my legs.

My shaft was throbbing and I wanted nothing more to relieve the pulsing ache like I did on that one fateful day Kamal had happened to walk in on me doing it. He’d told me then that I wasn’t to feel embarrassed about pleasuring myself. He’d even went as far as placing my hand on his own swollen member and showed me his desire as well. I rubbed the palm of my hand against my thigh. It was like I could still feel the heat and the imprint of his long, thick length beneath my fingers.

A door closed and I jumped. I listened to Kamal’s footsteps as they carried him down the hall. I quickly dropped the towel and grimaced at the sight of the scars on my upper thighs. My rigid shaft bounced in the air and I tried to think of things like cold water and unattractive things. Anything other than the man causing the roller coaster of emotions that were taking over in my mind and body. I wondered if I took Kamal at his word and maybe ask him to help me experiment with these new found feelings, what would he do?

Stepping out of the closet, I pulled my long sleeved sweater over my head and checked my appearance in the mirror. Satisfied with my look in a pair of distressed jeans and an oversized sweater. I pulled on a thick pair of socks and pronounced myself dressed. By the time I made it to the living room, I was all ready to follow my therapist’s previous advice and tell Kamal what was on my mind, to be open with him, and not to let my feelings of embarrassment or misplaced shame hold me back.

We’ve spent several sessions discussing Kamal’s place in my life and how I feel about him. Now all I had to do was try to calm my nerves enough, steel my spine to actually open my mouth and boldly ask him for what I want, and tell him exactly how he makes me feel.

I heard Farooq and Hamid’s playful voices long before I entered the living room. What surprised me was sight of Farrah and Nassim unpacking fragrant food containers across the room on the counter between the kitchen and the dining room. Yasmin was busy taking dishes out of the cabinets.

“There he is.” Kamal announced as every eye turned in my direction and I had to fight the blush threatening to stain my cheeks at being at the center of attention. I waved at everyone before refocusing my gaze back to Kamal. I almost wanted to slap the smug smirk off Kamal’s face. He knew exactly what he was doing by calling everyone’s attention to me like that.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t resist. You’re so cute when you blush, I can’t help but making you do it.” His eyes twinkled with mischief a few seconds before they went all solemn. “But seriously about earlier, I didn’t mean to flash you like that. As much as I like seeing a flush on those pretty cheeks, I didn’t mean to do by exposing myself to you.” He stated with all sincerity.

That’s when an evil thought crossed my mind and I decided to kill two birds with one stone. I politely thanked Hamid for handing a glass of soda and I waited until he drifted off to have my say. Once everyone was occupied and out of earshot I responded. “If you are going to make me blush, I don’t mind if you do it like that. I’d actually appreciate it or I should say, it’ll give me a chance to appreciate it.” I watched with delight as Kamal almost choked on the sip he’d just taken from the drink in his hand.

With a wink and satisfied smile, I turned away from the sputtering man and walked into the kitchen to investigate what the girls were preparing that smelled so good. I couldn’t keep the smile I wore on my face for the rest of the night even if I’d tried. All it took was one glance in Kamal’s direction to see the smoldering intensity burning in his gaze, or watching his brothers trying to get him to pay attention to their card game was enough to have me grinning like a loon.

It felt good to fluster him for a change. I’ve lost count of how many times he has rendered my thought processes to absolutely nothing with only a glance from those enigmatic eyes of his. I was so busy savoring my little triumph that it never dawned on me what was going to happen now that the evening was coming to a close. The girls had put away the leftovers and the kitchen was spotless. Hamid had escorted them downstairs to their waiting car. Farooq tidied the living room and the bar.

Full realization hit me when Kamal waved goodbye to his brothers and closed the front door. I was standing a couple of steps behind him. He slowly turned to face me and the look glittering in the depths his eyes pinned me in place, and had my breath hitched in my throat. I couldn’t help but to think of an old saying I read somewhere might be holding true right about now, “Oh god, I think I may just awakened the sleeping tiger.”

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

(Please enjoy the video of the late, great George Michael, “Father Figure.)

Kamal

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My brain was telling me to slow down, to stop and think about the consequences of my actions. But my heated, frustrated body was telling me to pounce and finally claim the little beauty who has been slowly driving me to insanity ever since I laid eyes on him, that fateful night in that depressing room which served as his prison. Just the mere thought of where I’d found him and the condition he’d been in slowed my determined steps, and cooled some of the heat in my blood. It didn’t fully stop me from backing him up against the wall in the hallway and caging him in with my hands resting on the wall at each side of his head.

Jameel’s pretty brown eyes stared wide-eyed and expectantly up at me, and damn it all to hell, I just wanted to drown myself in his gaze. I wanted to lean forward and claim those plump, pink lips for my own. I wanted to taste the sweetness of that delectable mouth, but I ‘m not sure if I’ll be able to stop with only stealing a kiss. I was a full blooded young man with a strong sex drive, one that I’ve been neglecting for months as I helped the beauty in front of me heal from a traumatic situation no one ever had a right to be placed in.

After all this time, my body still shuddered with the thought of what this beautiful man had endured under the hands of a perverted, closeted, and cruel old man. God help me, I silently prayed for strength and the wisdom not to fuck up Jameel’s impressive recovery by coming on too strong, and scaring him more than he already was about being touched intimately. The last time I allowed him to explore my body I was seconds away from coming all over myself like a prepubescent boy discovering the joys of having my dick touched for the very first time.

My body had a mind of its own, I felt myself pushing forward until my chest pressed against Jameel and I reveled in absorbing his warmth of his body through my clothes. I was desperately fighting an internal battle between my brain and my cock. Jameel did help matters when he squirmed against my bulk, bringing that slender little body of his even closer to mine. His scent surrounded and intoxicated me like hit of the purest heroin.

“Do you have any idea what it is you do me?” I quietly whispered the question mere inches from his enticing lips.

He quickly shook his head, we were so close that the tip of his cute little nose brushed against mine when his head moved from side to side. I watched in total fascination as the tip of his tongue licked along his bottom lip and a groan of pure, unadulterated lust rumbled deep in my chest. I wanted to suck that sweet appendage into my mouth and suck on it until the both of us was out of breath. Only then would I release him to further explore the sweet-smelling skin along the elegant expanse of his throat.

Releasing a heartfelt sigh full of frustration and tapping down the urge to reach down and palm my over excited erection, I managed to use my hands and push myself away from the decadent temptation standing in front of me. I’d almost succeeded with getting away but Jameel’s little hands fisted in my sweater and I instantly froze in place and looked down at him.

“I really think we should call it a night and go to our separate bedrooms before things get out of hand. I not ashamed to admit that I’m on edge. I want to do things that you are not yet ready for. Sexual things that you might never be ready for ever again. I would never lay a hand on you to harm you or cause you pain.” Jameel opened his mouth as if he was getting ready to say something, but I shook my head at him and continued with what I had to say.

“My touch, the feeling of my hands on the most private places of your body may trigger your fears and cause a setback in your therapy and treatment. We need to step back. I need to step back, I only have so much control and I’d die before I scare you away.” I earnestly explained, almost pleading with him to agree and let me go handle my business with my right hand and copious amounts of lube.

Jameel didn’t let me go, if anything, he tightened his grip on my sweater and I watched a variety of emotions churning in his expressive eyes.

“Do you remember that afternoon in your family’s home when you found me in a compromising position in my bedroom, and you followed me into the bathroom afterwards?” He quietly asked.

How could I ever forget that day? The sight of him with those slender thighs spread wide open and his fingers wrapped around his cock. His pouty lips parted and wet with his chest heaving from pleasuring himself. The image would forever be locked away in my memory bank, only to be brought out time and time again whenever I needed to ease my aching cock. The almost painful hardness that only this man in front of could cause with just a look or an innocent smile.

Trying to swallow past the lump that formed in my throat, I could only nod my head, not trusting my voice to waver at the moment.

“You said that I could trust you. You said that I could explore these feelings and not to be ashamed of having them.” Jameel shyly reminded me. His eyes darted away from mine for a second before he lowered his head and confessed. “Well, I want to take you up on your offer. You said that you’re attracted to me, and my feelings for you have gotten stronger as time goes by. I find myself wanting to touch you and wanting you to touch me in return. My therapist said to own my feelings and that’s what I’m trying to do. I want to explore like you said, without feeling like I’m being used or hurt for someone’s depraved pleasures.”

Drawing a deep, calming breath into my lungs and exhaling it through my mouth. I gathered Jameel’s trembling form in my arms, and brought his slender frame flush against my heated body and asked. “What is it you want us to do, little one?”

“Um… I… I want to touch you. I… Um…Want feel you.” He adorably stuttered and I had to bite back my smile.

“Do you want me dressed while you touch me or do you want me naked?” I couldn’t help myself from asking. Jameel flushed scarlet, but he didn’t back away from me.

“Naked, please.” He whispered and his face even brighter shade red. The flush spread all the way to the tips of his ears and I decided to take pity on him, and not tease any more than necessary. I just needed him to learn and feel comfortable in voicing his desires. Thank god, I only had one alcoholic beverage this evening, it was not enough to alter my senses in the slightest. I needed to focus and attune myself to every one of his upcoming reactions to what we are about to do tonight.

Jameel scrunched up his nose as he thought about his response to my questions. “Your room.” He replied.

“Alright then. Why don’t you go change into something a little more comfortable and I’ll meet you in my room in few minutes.” I suggested as I took him by the hand and led him down the hall, praying all the way that I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to spook him and undo all the brilliant results of his therapy. I wondered if maybe I should have a discussion with his therapist before I allowed Jameel to have his way.

I was about to voice my thoughts when I turned to look at him, and my breath caught in my throat. My cock jerked painfully behind my zipper at the eager look of anticipation on his face. A small smile curved his plump lips, and fuck if my cock didn’t throb achingly like it had its own heartbeat pounding away at a mile a minute. At this point I couldn’t have denied him even if I wanted to.

Jameel smiled shyly up at me before disappearing into his room. As soon as his door shut behind him, I sprinted into my room and cut a path across the plush carpet into my en-suite master bathroom. As quickly as I could, I shed my clothes and threw the bundle into the laundry hamper and hopped into the shower. I turned the hot water taps on and grabbed my shower gel. As quickly and as thoroughly as I could, I washed myself from head to toe. I wanted this night to be as enjoyable for Jameel as I could possibly make it. I wanted to replace his horrific memories with nothing but ones of pleasure beyond his wildest dreams. I wanted every moment of tonight events to be perfect for him.

Rinsing the bath bubbles off my skin, I turned off the taps and grabbed a fluffy towel off the towel warmer and did a quick rub down before walking over to the bathroom counters. I chose one of my favorite colognes and splashed a little on my pulse points followed by a swipe of deodorant under my arm pits. I even gargled a little mouthwash and finger combed the damp strands of my hair away from my forehead.

It was now or never, I thought as I checked my reflection in the mirror one last time. My cock hadn’t lost its rigid stance throughout the process of refreshing myself, and at this point, it didn’t matter. I just tightened the towel around my waist and slowly made my way back into my bedroom. My steps nearly faltered a little when I saw Jameel sitting cross legged in the middle of my massive bed, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt. His dainty little feet were bare and I had no idea why that turned me on. Even more so than if he was sprawled out naked for my viewing pleasure.

He gave me one of his little smiles and I could help the grin that spread across my face. I walked over to my night stand. I could feel his curious eyes traveling the length of my body as I picked up the remote and dimmed the lights in my room. I pointed the device at the hidden sound system and cued up my playlist. I turned the volume down low just as George Michael’s “Father Figure,” began to play. I almost cringed, not sure if the song was appropriate but the lyrics and the beat was sexy as hell, and it damn sure set the mood.

“You’re in charge sweetness. Tell me where you want me.” I said and watched as he once again flushed so prettily for me.

Jameel scooted over and patted the space next to him, and I took a breath before dropping the towel at my feet and climbing onto the bed. I reclined back onto my pillows and locked my hands behind my head giving him full access as well as a full view of all of me. My heart was pounding in my chest and my nerves threatened to get the best of me, but on the outside, I tried my best to remain calm and encouraging. I wanted Jameel relaxed and comfortable.

Jameel got up on his knees and turned to face me. He shuffled forward until his knees bumped against my side. I dared to sneak a peek up at him from under my lashes. His lips were parted and his breathing was slightly elevated. His eyes roamed my body and I never been happier that I work out rigorously to keep myself in shape. I wanted him to like what he saw, and judging from the almost glazed look in his eyes, my little beauty appreciated my efforts.

My heart rate spiked when he reached out a trembling hand towards my defined abs. The first gentle touch of his fingers had the muscles bunching tight, and my cock pulsed out a glistening pearl of pre-ejaculate where it rested close to my hip. I swear my eyes rolled into the back of my head and a groan I had no hopes of suppressing rumbled out of my chest as his soft fingers combed the length of my happy trail all the way to the base of my weeping shaft.

My hips punched up off the bed like they had a mind of their own. They were encouraging Jameel to reach for the prize. A shudder racked my body from head to toe, and the wet tip of my cock slid across my abdomen as it twitched as if begging to be touched, but Jameel didn’t seem to be in a hurry. It was like he was absorbing every single sensation and my every reaction to his tentative caresses.

“Am I doing this right?” His quiet voice broke into my sex fuzzed thoughts as my fingers fisted the hair at the back of my head.

“Oh God, baby.” I groaned. “You’re perfect, at this rate you’re going to make me come way sooner than I want to.” I groaned out, my voice strained and thick with desire. I wanted to feel his warm, soft hands on me for the remainder of the night. But as my blood pounded in my ears and my balls swollen and drawn up tight against my body I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. His touch, even the slight brush of his hand was enough to do me in, and just because it was him. The one man who has been my sole focus ever since I laid eyes on him.

“I want to see that. I want to see you come.” Jameel quietly panted out the words. I looked up into his beautiful face and saw the raw, open desire written across his features. I saw uncertainty as well. He needed a bit more reassurance that he was touching me in all right ways. So, I made the decision to give him some verbal encouragement.

“Wrap your fingers around the base of my shaft love, slick your fingers over the head of my cock and get them nice and wet.” I instructed and watched him shiver in response to my words.

A sheen of sweat coated the surface of my skin when he readily complied and the feel of his hand, those long graceful fingers curved around my throbbing dick almost had me coming all over myself.

“Mm… Perfect baby, now slowly move your hand up and down, pumping the length of my shaft. Yessss…That’s it, continue on just like that, you’re making me feel so good, baby. I’m right there.” I groaned as my back arched off the bed. I felt the sharp tingling of my impending orgasm cut a path down the length of my spine.

Jameel tightened his fist around my length on the upstroke and released the pressure on the down stoke to give his hand room around the thick root right back on up the dripping head.

I heard my little one release a strangled little whimper and I looked to see that his pupils were blown wide open. His breathing stuttered past his lush lips and my eyes traveled down past his heaving chest to see the tented fabric at the front of his sweatpants, a tell-tale wet spot where the head of his cock where it was positioned, and without another thought, I lurched up and pinned him beneath me.

“Are you alright?” I anxiously asked and he nodded frantically at me. “We are going to finish this together.” I growled and he nodded once again.

I ran my hands from his hips to his thighs and I parted his legs and quickly settled myself into the cradle of his thighs, flush against his pelvis. My naked cock aligned with his slender cloth covered member. I watched his face for any signs of distress as I rolled my hips against his, grinding my rigid length against his.

“Oh, oh my… Please, faster.” He begged and my hips jerked forward. I rutted against him like a man on mission.

Jameel’s fingernails dug into my shoulders and he opened his mouth in a silent scream, his eyes scrunched tightly closed, and his hips bucked up hard into mine. My balls drew up and quivered seconds before my own release exploded out of me like a force of nature. I saw stars behind my eyes as Jameel continued to buck his slender hips up under me, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his own release.

I slumped to the side carrying Jameel slender frame with me so that we were lying face to face. We both panted trying to catch our breaths as our chests heaved.

“Give me a minute love, and then I’ll get us cleaned up.” I murmured between breaths.

Jameel released a high pitched little giggle and I opened my eyes to look at him.

“Wow, at least you can make the attempt to get up. I think my legs have turned to jelly.” He giggled some more and I couldn’t help the happy little grin from forming. Deep down I was silently patting myself on the back for a job well done.

Jameel hadn’t run off in horror, and he seemed to be coping with what we’ve done just fine. I can only hope in the light of a new day, he wouldn’t have any regrets or doubts about tonight.

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Jameel

**
**

My brain sluggishly revived itself, bringing me out of the most peaceful night’s sleep I could ever recall having. I didn’t want it to end, I was so comfortable snuggled under the heated warmth of… Wait a minute. My eyes popped open and I became aware that the pillow I thought I was resting my head on was actually moving. I blinked to clear my vision and came to realize the tip of my nose was almost touching the wide sculpted chest in front of me. The sleep warmed skin under my cheek was firm and warm. The smattering of silky chest hairs tickled the tip of my nose as I deeply inhaled Kamal’s addictive unique scent.

Everything, every moment of the previous night came rushing back at me all at once. The toe-curling sensations and the liquid fire that this man had ignited in my blood. The emotional upheaval I’d experienced when he patiently, and with awe inspiring selflessness allowed me to perform the most intimate of acts on his body without any thought of expectations in return. He gave me free reign with his body, just to appease my own curiosity.

My entire body suffused with heat as I vividly recalled the way he sounded, how all that mass of muscle and heated skin felt under my fingertips, and the way he looked at me through those dark, sexy eyes. Oh my, suddenly a wave of dizziness swept over me as my blood rushed south to my cock, making it stand, and pulse with need. It took all that I had to refrain from humping against the thick thigh that was wedged almost indecently between legs.

A gentle rumble from deep within Kamal chest vibrated against my cheek and my eyes flew up to his face and I felt the hot rush of blood lighting up my cheeks when I saw those rich, dark eyes staring back at me. My thought processes vanished and I was at a total lost for what to say. Good morning didn’t feel like it would be enough after what occurred between us last night. But what else was I going to say to this wonderful man.

“Sabah al khair (Good morning) .” I shyly whispered into his shoulder.

Kamal had my breath hitching in my throat when he flexed the rock-hard muscles in his thigh causing a delicious friction against my already leaking shaft. “Yes, it is a good morning, isn’t it?” He stated and a furious blush lit my cheeks once again. I was so out of my element, I didn’t know what to do. The only thing that I knew was that I didn’t want to do was move from this spot ever again for the near foreseeable future.

Swallowing the confused sigh that threatened to rush past my lips. I nuzzled my cheek against Kamal’s beefy shoulder and waited for the familiar feeling of shame and disgust to wash over me, like it usually does whenever I allowed myself to entertain sexual thoughts of any kind about another male, specifically the grandson of the man than tormented and abused me for more than half my life.

Rationally I knew that neither Kamal or his family was in no way shape or form responsible for the reprehensible things that man has done and said to me over the years. With Kamal’s help and the help of my therapist, I am working through deprograming the obvious poisonous garbage that bastard brainwashed me with.

It wasn’t easy though working through a lifetime of negativity. I’ m still struggling with coming to terms with identifying with who I am. Living with Kamal and the insane attraction I feel for the man had confused me at first. I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve felt shamefully guilty whenever I observed him when he wasn’t looking, desiring him like no other, and lusting after him had filled me with unreasonable panic. No way was I normal, I believed I was an abomination to Allah. I was the deviant and a pervert like the old man had drilled into me.

But Kamal and the rest of his wonderful family had patiently and diligently showed me that I had nothing to be ashamed of. Not the scars that riddled my body, not my feelings of inadequacy, nor the very abuse I’d suffered. They all made me feel strong, told me I’m a survivor and that there is nothing wrong about who I may find attractive. Kamal’s parents were amazing people. It’s no wonder that Kamal and his siblings were such a special people.

A shiver of heat tingled down my spine as his large palm ran a warm trail of friction down the length of my spine. My already erect shaft twitched against his hip, and I couldn’t find it in me to feel ashamed of my body’s response to his touch.

If someone had told me a few months ago that I’d be lying almost half naked in bed wrapped more securely around Kamal than the blankets that covered us. I would have dived head first into the nearest closet and buried myself under whatever was in there. Now, after months of therapy, and coming to terms with myself and my feelings. I’m proud to say, the only thing I’m feeling right now is the need to do the one thing I didn’t have the nerve to do last night. I wanted to kiss Kamal.

Even before I found my new-found confidence, and yes, with my clandestine visits to certain websites I secretly still watched from time to time. I’ve wondered what Kamal’s firm; sexy lips would taste like. Watching the intimate act of the men on screen kissing each other, their tongues sensually swirling in a dance of little nips, and nibbles made me yearn to see for myself if kissing was as sexily enjoyable as it looked on the computer.

“What’s got you thinking so hard little one. I can almost feel the heat of your thoughts churning through your brain?” Kamal’s deep baritone penetrated my internal deliberations.

My whole body stiffened and another furious blush burned to the tips of my ears. How was I supposed to open my mouth and answer his question? Do I simply ask for a kiss, or tell him I was wondering if he’d let me kiss him? Face it, I had no clue what I was doing. I’ve never, ever in my life touched another soul with my lips unless it was a quick peck of thanks on Kamal’s or his sister’s cheeks, thanking them for taking such amazing care of me. I so didn’t want to take the initiative and try to kiss him. I’d probably embarrass myself and slob all over him like the puppies did to me when he’d taken me to see them in that little pet shop he’d taken me to on one of our many trips around the city.

Kamal’s upper body shifted and I tightened my arms around his waist and buried my overheated face between his massive pectoral muscles. Silently inhaling his clean, unique scent deep into my lungs while I hid from his gorgeous, but scrutinizing gaze.

“Come on, baby. I told you there is nothing to feel embarrassed about. There is nothing you can’t ask me and I’ll judge you in any way for. We are attracted to each other and with that comes desire. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Here, give me your hand.” He quietly, but gently demanded and I had no qualms about surrendering my trembling fingers to his.

A whimper left my throat as Kamal firmly placed my hand on the rippling muscles of his abdomen. With his much larger palm covering the back of my hand. He slowly slid both our fingers over the sculpted indentations of his stomach, through the smooth, dark hairs of his treasure trail. His neatly trimmed pubic hairs tickled the sensitive tips of my fingers until I came into contact with the wide, hard base of his rigid shaft.

“This is the effect you have on me every time I lay eyes on you. Feel how you make me ache with the need to have you close to me, to touch me.” He whispered into my hair and another tremor of heat quaked over my heated skin.

Kamal released a deep, toe-curling groan as he wrapped both our fists around with girth of his impressive cock. I felt a little wicked thrill knowing that every inch of his magnificent body was naked while I was still wearing a loose pair of sweat pants. Not that the soft material was doing anything to hide the pulsing length of my own erection in the least. Unconsciously my hand squeezed the turgid flesh, and another sexy rumble vibrated against my cheek causing me to leak even more into the loose cotton covering my shaft.

“Look at me, precious.” Kamal purred and feeling a little overwhelmed and a little shy. I shook my head and buried my face further into the expanse of his wide chest.

A little squeak of surprise that quickly turned into a needy little groan of desire left my lips as I suddenly found myself flat on my back. My hand was still firmly wrapped around that powerful piece of manhood as Kamal shifted over me, and settled himself between my parted thighs.

“That’s it, beautiful. Leave your hand right there. It’s alright. I’m not going to do anything that you aren’t comfortable with. I just want to look at you. I want to taste those pretty pink lips of yours. I wanted to claim them even before last night, but this is your show. Please tell me I can.” He whispered. His face mere inches away from mine. It was like he was reading my thoughts and I couldn’t look away from the heated fire burning in his mesmerizing dark eyes.

Kamal leaned his weight onto one side, balancing on one arm as he hovered above me. Giving me room to slowly stroke the length of his rock-hard shaft. It throbbed hot and thick in the palm of my hand. Still captivated by the lust burning in his gaze, I nodded my head in consent to receiving his kiss.

My blood thrummed with anticipation through my veins when his triumphant gaze held me completely captivated. I watched wide-eyed as those plump sexy lips slowly descend towards my parted ones. I couldn’t help but to stick the tip of my tongue out to lick my bottom lip, but Kamal quickly swooped down and suddenly caught the appendage between his lips and promptly sucked it into the warm cavern of his mouth.

A groan of sheer, uninhibited ecstasy bubbled up into my throat, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head as his flavor burst over my taste buds. Kamal wasted no time as he proved what an expert he was at kissing. He released my tongue long enough to nibble on my quivering bottom lip. He followed the caress with a sharp, tiny little nip only to suck the mildly abused flesh into his mouth and soothed it with the warmth of his tongue.

His other hand snaked up and around the back of my head. His fingers threaded into my hair as he angled his head and firmly planted his mouth fully over mine. His lips were firm get gentle as he continued the delightful caress. The tip of his tongue teased along my bottom lip and I instinctively opened up for him. Granting him anything and everything, and he simply devoured me. There was not a spot in my mouth he didn’t explore with his mind-numbing tongue.

Soon he began to slowly rock his lean hips. Thrusting his cock back and forth through my curled fingers. I reveled in the way his breath hitched every time the bulbous head caught on the bit of skin between my pointer finger and my thumb. Through my clouded lust filled thoughts, I recalled the way he showed me how to best pleasure him with my hand from last night, and I slowly circled the smooth glans of his cock with my thumb, spreading his wetness all over the wide head.

Our lips only separated long enough for us to draw a quick breath before diving back into to continue the erotic dance of twirling tongues. I mimicked his every move and was rewarded for my efforts with his breathy growls, and deep groans of pleasure. Each deep, sexy sound he made shot a wave of electric heat straight to my weeping cock. The material of the fresh sweats I’d replaced the cum covered ones with last night was not enough, and despite the aversion of my scars down there. I wanted to feel his hand on my cock.

Tearing my lips away from his, my hips bucked and I panted. “Please, please touch me.”

Kamal’s hips continued to move as if he couldn’t control himself, but his gaze turned serious as he looked down at me. “Are you sure sweetness? I don’t want to do anything to frighten you.”

My heart just about melted in my chest. Even as turned on as he was, as hot, and as hard as his shaft was pulsing in my hand. His first concern was about my emotional and physical comfort and my welfare.

“I need you, I want you to touch me. I want…” My words were cut off with a shameless groan as his hand slid under the waistband of my sweats. His long fingers wrapped around my leaking cock and he gave me one sinful, long pull from the base to the dripping tip. That was all the warning I got before he set off on a rhythm that had my mouth opening wide with a silent scream, and had my back arching clear off the bed.

A primal growl tore out of Kamal’s throat. The next thing I knew. My pants were unceremoniously stripped off my body. My hands flew to his wide shoulders for support and my fingers dug in as he settled himself between my splayed thighs. Words could not describe the feelings of his rigid shaft lining up against mine, nor would I ever admit how the sound of Kamal spitting into the palm of his hand ramped me up even more, as he wrapped his long fingers around both of our lengths and proceeded to stroke us towards oblivion.

Kamal grunted and reclaimed my lips with his. All coherent thought rushed out of my head. Everything around me disappeared and he became the sole focus of my world. The center of my universe as we continued to desperately rut against one another. With each stroke, each hot swirl of tongues, and the spine tingling pull of his hand on our throbbing flesh. I felt myself getting closer and closer to an orgasm I was sure that when it came, it was going to shatter me into a million pieces. But I didn’t care, because I knew that Kamal would be right there to put me back together again. Of this I was certain.

“Oh god, you are perfection.” Kamal grunted after releasing my lips. He threw his head back and hissed long and loud. I gave up and gave myself over to the erotic picture Kamal presented with his head thrown back, the veins in his strong neck bulging with his own impending release. It was enough to send the razor-sharp talons of my own completion clawing itself down the length of my spine, tearing through the quivering fulness of my balls, and shooting liquid fire up the length if my shaft.

Stars swirled behind my tightly clenched eyelids, and I didn’t even recognize my own voice as I cried out under the intensity of my release. Thick, white hot come shot from the tip of my cock and coated Kamal’s pulsing cock and hand. Not a second later Kamal went stock-still, and a groan rumbled through his chest. I felt the heat of his release pulse and pool with mine all over my groin and lower abdomen. His whole body shuddered and he lowered his forehead to mine, our chests heaved as we tried to draw much needed oxygen into our depleted lungs.

Merciful Allah, I couldn’t feel the tips of my toes or my fingers. My entire body went lax underneath his and my brain went completely offline. The last thing I recalled was the security of the sleep. It wrapped around me as I drifted off into sated darkness.

Much later in the day when I woke up naked, but clean and warm, tucked under fluffy blankets with Kamal soundly sleeping spooned behind me. I had to admit that nothing could have ever prepared me for the feelings I’ve experienced so far over the last twenty-four hours. Not one event in my life would have foretold the pleasure I would find with this man. I was sure that what I felt for Kamal, I would nerve, ever feel for another soul in this lifetime or the next, and I can happily say, I was completely comfortable with these new-found emotions. A little smile curved my lips as I let myself drift back into a state of restful slumber secure in the arms of the man, I know now I will love for as long as I draw breath.

Chapter 24

Chapter 24

(My idea of what Farrah’s Wedding Dresses designs would look like) Picture courtesy of said mhamad photography.

Kamal

I was supposed to be working. Fashion week in New York was set to begin in a little under three weeks, and Farrah was in rare form with her preparations for launching the new line spring wear and intimate apparel. She truly needed all hands-on- deck. I was here more for moral support to the staff and maybe even preventing them from having nervous breakdowns due to my perfectionist of a sister drill sergeant attitude and her deadline requirements. Farrah ran a tight ship on a regular day, but with it being this close to fashion week, she could put any dictator in history to shame. I had no choice but to bring Jameel into the office with me. I couldn’t stand to be away from him for more than a few hours, and he’d all but begged to come along with those big brown pretty eyes, and those kissable pouty lips, He wanted to see the infamous House of El-Sayed Fashion Headquarters.

The beautiful man had researched our company, he’d even found the series of shows on the TV network featuring the week-long documentary on our exclusive wedding gown line, along with a few of the prestigious clients we’ve catered to when designing their one of a kind wedding dresses. He’d been thoroughly impressed during and after watching the series. Now here he was in the middle of the creating chaos, and my heart was about to burst out of my chest with pride. My shy little lamb was standing in a room of organized madness. My sister’s numerous assistants, models, vendors, and support staff were swarming all over the design room floor and Jameel wasn’t cowering in fear of having so many strangers surrounding him, nor was he glued to my side because of his anxiety.

He was too busy touching the imported silks in an array of colors Farrah was showing him to care. Jameel was so absorbed in the textures of the material he was holding between his long, graceful fingers, he ignored everything and everyone around him. I’ve discovered once he gets past his stressors, and he is comfortable, Jameel is a very tactile person. He is so innocently curious about everything. How something feels. How it works and smells depending on what it was that caught his attention. So, needless to say I’m not paying any attention to the million and one things I’m supposed doing. My entire focus was on the gorgeous creature standing by the row of draped mannequins across the room with my sister.

“Hmmm…he is a stunning little thing.” A sultry voice purred beside me and I turned my head to see one of my sister’s talented designers standing beside me holding a pair of fabric sheers in a manicured hand, and tapping it against his chin with his gaze focused on Jameel standing across the room.

“That he is.” I replied in total agreement with Sasha’s assessment of Jameel. Stunning, exotic, gorgeous, breathtakingly beautiful are only some of the words I could use to describe Jameel’s mind boggling beauty.

“That young man would look fabulous draped in anything from our upcoming spring collection. I want him in my designs. Farrah, Farrah darling…” Sasha called out to my sister as he took off at a hurried pace in her direction before I could even utter a single word.

Dumbfounded, I stood there and contemplated what Sasha said while watching the eccentric designer wave his hands in front of a wide eyed Jameel with my sister nodding her head to whatever the man was going on about. I shook myself out of my thoughts and rushed over to make sure Jameel wasn’t overwhelmed by Sasha and his exuberance.

Making it to his side just in time to hear him actually squeak before taking the necessary steps to tuck his face into my chest, his dark curls brushing my chin and tickling my neck. I brought my hands up and rubbed soothing circles on his back.

“Thank you, Sasha, we’ll discuss this further later on. Jameel is a little shy and I’m not sure if he will want the kind attention he will have to face walking a runway. You are correct though, it’s like this year’s color schemes and fabrics were made solely for him.” Farrah soothed one of her top employees before sending him off to fuss over something else.

“Do…do you think I’ll look okay wearing Farrah’s clothes like that man said?” Jameel whispered quietly against my chest and it really surprised me that he was even thinking about this. I felt a shiver of desire shimmer down my spine as his warm breath filtered through the fabric of my dress shirt and caressed my skin like a lover’s touch.

“I’m a bit bias when it comes to you. I think you look absolutely stunning on a daily basis, no matter what you wear.” I whispered in his ear and felt the warmth of his sigh penetrate my shirt.

Jameel leaned back and I noticed Farrah, the devious little wench studying the fabric swathed mannequin next to hear with feigned interest. I knew she was listening to every word that was being shared between Jameel and I.

“I like the designs and the colors are so pretty. I… I want to try…” he mumbled and before I could even utter a word of support, Farrah converged on us like an avenging angel or I should say the Devil’s advocate. She literally snatched Jameel out of my arms startling the poor boy and almost had me reaching for her neck to strangle her. She was babbling away about having Jameel modeling a few outfits for her just so she could how the colors fit his skin tone. The only thing that stopped me from carrying out the act was the fact Jameel was literally vibrating with excitement in response to her words, that and my father’s booming voice in my head sternly reminding me that it was a man’s ultimate sin and a sign of ultimate weakness for a man to ever put his hands on a woman for anything other than a show of affection or kindness.

My mouth gaped open as the two hurried away towards the fitting area where the completed outfits were stored. Jameel barely managed to look back and give me a little wave before he turned back to my sister. They disappeared into the large dressing area we aptly called in “master closet.”

“Huh, interesting.” I muttered under my breath in awe as I made my way more sedately across the prep room floor towards the closet. This day was full of surprises so far and I am not sure if my heart could take any more. I was anxious about Jameel feeling overwhelmed in all the hustle and bustle that occurred within the walls of the fashion house was usually accustomed to, especially during the weeks leading up to one of the main events this city was noted for as one of the fashion meccas of the world. But all my anxiety seemed to be in vain, and Jameel kept rolling out the surprises with his unexpected reactions.

Where I expected him to be withdrawn, it was the complete opposite. Where I expected him to be shy, he shone like the brightest diamond that he is. I was thrilled, yet concerned at the same time. The thrilled part of me was overjoyed that Jameel seemed to be healing, he was beginning to see his self-worth and that he wasn’t some horrid old man’s dirty little secret or a vessel to be used for abhorrent acts of shame. He was coming into his own identity and finally able to be himself. On the other hand, I wondered if it was too quick. Were we pushing him too much and too soon? Will all my attempts at healing this beautiful boy, or man I should say back fire in my face and we do him more harm than good?

Pushing through the dressing room door with a worried frown creasing my face, my frown was quickly replaced with a self-depreciating grin. My all-knowing sister had cleared the room of everyone except herself and Jameel. She’d even erected one of the privacy screens in front of a full-length mirror so Jameel could change in privacy. She was giving him the choice on whether he could inspect himself in private or share his choice of clothing with us. I walked over to my smug sister and wrapped an arm around her delicate shoulders and kissed her on top of her head. I had no words in my vocabulary that would be enough to express my undying gratitude to her kindness.

This right here, her actions were a prime example of why I would lay down my life for my family. They were not perfect, but they were mine, and they were not only accepting and understanding. They shared their goodness and love with the world unapologetically and unselfishly to all who they cared about.

“You, brother dear are going to drop dead when you see what your little angel has picked out for himself.” Farrah excitedly whispered as she rocked back and forth in her Louboutin heels, a feat that only she could accomplish.

Shaking my head at her outrageousness, I wondered if she was gaining more pleasure out of this than Jameel. Farrah had no less than a hundred other things that she needed to be doing right about now in preparation for launching the new line, but she had unabashedly set aside everything else in order to attend to Jameel herself for his comfort of being with someone he was familiar with. Someone other than myself with whom he felt comfortable as he undressed and indulged his tactile tendencies as he slipped into soft, vibrant silks of this year’s designs.

“Are you okay back there sweet pea? Do you need any help?” Farrah called out to Jameel as soon as she heard his startled little gasp leak from behind the screen.

“Um…I… I’m not sure.” Came the quietly uncertain reply and another round of shuffling silk.

“It’s just me and Kamal out here if you want to come out and show us what the problem is, or would you prefer he or I to come help with any adjustments you may need?” Farrah gently asked and my anxiety over the situation notched right back up all over again as I waited for his response.

“I don’t know. I think I got it, but…” Jamal’s hesitant reply had me inching closer towards the privacy screen, but a Farrah’s hand on my arm stopped my progress. She shook her head and motioned for me to wait.

“Come out when you’re ready. You can even change back into your own clothes. I just wanted you to have the opportunity to try on anything you like. If you want to share your look with us or if you just wanted to see for yourself what you looked like in our designs then that’s more than fine with us sweetie. It’s all about you and what you’re comfortable with.” My awesome sister reassured him, and I had to turn away and blink my unaccustomed emotional tears away. How fucking awesome were my siblings?

A deep sigh came from behind the screen and then there was the sound of a tentative step being taken. “Okay, don’t laugh okay.” Jameel instructed before he came into view.

I swore I felt my jaw clang against the carpeted floor at my feet, Farrah took a deep breath and then she released a high pitched, ear-splitting squeal. The sound reverberated the air as my grown sister, an influential business woman in her own right almost bowled me over in her haste to get to Jameel. She fussed over him like a teenage fan girl while I stood there like a complete addle-brained simpleton with my mouth gaped open like I was inviting flies to set up shop.

Jameel was a vision to behold and I found myself rock hard at just the sight of him. All the blood in my brain had abruptly rushed south and poured like hot lava into my now aching dick. My already challenged neuron cells were deprived of even more nutrients they needed in order to function properly. Unlike my raging hard on that was now pulsing behind the zipper of my fashionable slacks.

It was a good thing Farrah’s attention was focused solely on Jameel, otherwise I might have worked up the wherewithal to be embarrassed about my body’s blatant reaction to the sight in front of me. The man was already stunning, a true beauty to behold whether he was wearing his own clothes or hiding behind the voluminous layers of his abaya or the draping folds of his thawb.

The outfit he’d chosen was a shimmering crème colored day suit. The pants were slim fit, and accented his long, shapely legs to perfection. The jacket fit him like it was made for him, it draped over his trim shoulders just right, and it made his slender waist seem even more shapely. I just wanted to wrap my hands around it and pull him to fit against my body like only he could.

“That suit looks better on you than I could have even imagined. You my darling, have brought this creation to life. It was a gorgeous concept when I created it on paper and on the mannequin, but you make it work sweet pea. I just might have to take it off the line because I don’t think anyone else will be able to do it justice. What do you think Kamal?” Farrah gushed as she flashed a dainty wrist in the air trying to get my attention.

“Huh… um…” Came my oh so intelligent reply. My synapses had yet to start firing and all I could do was stare at Jameel and lust after him like a pervert. In my head I was chasing him all over God and creation like Pepe Le Pew did his kitty cat. The sight was made even more endearing by the crimson flush that stole across those cheekbones, hot enough to rival the blood red silk shirt Farrah had paired with the suit. I could clearly see why my sister’s designs were so sought after by her adoring clients. The woman could make you look like a god or goddess amongst us mere mortals.

“Woohoo, would you like at that. You have rendered him speechless my dear.” Farrah crowed a little too happily, but in this instance, and she was absolutely right, and I wanted nothing more than for her to disappear so I can peel that suit off his delectable body and have my way with him.

I finally managed to shake myself out of my stupor. “You’re breathtaking.” I simply stated and I was again rewarded with another cock twitching blush and a beaming smile. I needed to get my wayward cock under control before I managed to embarrass the both of us under my sister’s watchful gaze. Easier said than done at this point.

Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Jameel

There are no words in my vocabulary that I could use to even begin to describe the multiple awe-inspiring experiences I’ve encountered so far in this foreign land. These beautiful people rescued me from the hell that was my life under the hands of a very sick man. They’ve opened my eyes to a whole new world. With their help, and the help of the psychiatrist they’d arranged for me see, I was slowly coming to terms with the things I’d been subjected to. I’ve accepted that none of those horrid acts of defilement were my fault. They were solely the fault of a very disturbed individual, his actions were his own, and I, by no means should hold any blame for his misdeeds.

Getting to this point of my life, and accepting what had happened to me has been a long, hard road I’m precariously traveling. One that I’m most likely going to travel for the remainder of my days. I’m okay with that, because I want to take the journey. I no longer wanted to curl up in a dark corner, full of shame, and die. I want to live my life to the fullest. I want to enjoy the time that Allah has deemed fit to grant me on this mortal plane with the people currently in my life surrounding me with unconditional love and acceptance. Especially Kamal. He saved me that day, and I’ll forever be grateful to him for taking me out of that wretched room and opening my life into the world full of possibilities.

My therapist and I have shifted the focus of my sessions from discussing the multiple acts of degradations I’ve lived through, to discussing and working through my feelings for Kamal. She’s satisfied I was coping and effectively working through the emotional and physical effects of my time spent in captivity. She wanted to make sure that the attraction I’ve confessed to having for Kamal was healthy. She wanted me to differentiate between hero worship, gratitude for his assistance, and the fact that he was the first man in my life to show me some semblance of kindness and respect. I totally understand where she’s coming from and the message of what she’s trying to convey. I’ve spent many a night sleeping just a few steps away from Kamal to think about and sort through what I truly feel for the man.

I’ve never known love of any kind. Not from my absent parents, or the man who was in charge of well-being and lack there-of. I’ve never experienced the sentiment of caring deeply for someone else, either as a friend, family, or someone remotely in a romantic sense. That was until through Allah’s divine intervention with sending the El-Sayed family into my life. I’d sincerely thought that Allah had forsaken me for being a deviant. At least, that’s what had been drummed into my head every single day of my existence before I was shown another way of life.

It wasn’t until I was set free that I was able to witness how a true, respectful bonds of love united these special people. It wasn’t until I was brave enough to open my eyes and my heart that I was able to witness and come to know what love, pure unconditional love was about. It wasn’t until I experienced the kindness and non-judgmental acceptance and encouragement that I’ve come to learn what love means. And, finally with a touch, a smile, and of course, those heated looks of appreciation and desire Kamal tries to hide from me most of the time, that I’ve come to know that deep in my heart that I love him. Not just because he’s kind to me. Not because I am grateful to him for all he’s done, but because of the incredible man that he is.

It was because from day one, he’s seen me as a person worthy of his time. He looks at me like I’m precious, like he doesn’t see me as a defiled victim of unmentionable abuse. He doesn’t see a scarred and emotionally stunted person. When he looks at me, the way he treats me, cares for me, and the way he goes out of his way to respect my feelings, shows me cares for me more than he could ever put into words. The little snippets of intimacy we have been skirting around is another indication of what could be between us if I was brave enough to fully accept these new feelings and open my heart to completely trust him with my new found feelings. Show him that I trust myself as much as I trust him.

If I could just show him that I was ready to take that leap of faith and assure him that his touch, his attention, and his desire doesn’t scare me anymore, they never have. That I wasn’t and would never associate the feel of his hands on me would catapult me right back into the room that was my jail cell where my body and mind were violated for so many years. I want to show him that I am worthy of love. I am a man who is attracted to other men and despite what the many religious interpretations and my upbringing has to say on the subject. It’s a fact that is a depravity. I am a gay man, and that is who I am, and Allah loves me regardless because I am his creation.

Tapping my bare foot against the warm tiles of the bathroom floor, I ran my fingers over the butter soft, flowing silk robe hanging on the back of the closed door. Farrah had allowed me to take it straight from of her upcoming collection the other day as a personal gift when she’s noticed how much attention I was paying to the beautiful garment. I nearly vibrated out of my skin with excitement over the different textures and colors of her brilliant creations. I surely didn’t miss Kamal’s reaction to several of her outfit choices for me. The woman was absolutely brilliant when it came to her designs and her eye for color and fit of her clothes.

With that thought in my mind, the stunning magenta silk robe had caught my eye. The robe covered everything it needed to cover, but there where sheer panels of delicate lace artfully placed throughout the garment that gave just a hint of skin underneath it to make it sexy. Farrah had said the robe was meant for her wedding collection; a piece specifically made for the bride and Groom’s wedding night. My face had instantly flamed with understanding of what she meant as the purpose of the garment. My blush hadn’t gone away and had only seemed to intensify when she showed me the matching silk and lace garments that were meant to be paired with the robe. A dainty all lace teddy that by itself left nothing to the imagination, and a pair of thigh-highs, lace trimmed silk stockings that were so soft, they must feel like sheer decadence against the skin.

Anxiety had the butterflies fluttering in stomach working overtime. Was I brave enough to put these intimate pieces of sexy decadence on and give Kamal his own personal show? Was I reading too much into his kindness and perceiving that kindness as romantic delusions of my own imagination? My shoulders slumped as I turned away from the beautifully designed robe and shuffled over to my most favorite place in Kamal’s extravagant home, the sunken bathtub. Leaning over, I turned on the faucets and adjusted the temperature of the water to almost scalding. Just the way I liked it when I took my daily soak in the multiple bubbles and bath oils Kamal spoils me with as gifts knowing how much time I spend in the fragrant waters of my baths.

Who was I kidding, I have no experience with this kind of things, love, intimacy, and relationships. Why would someone so accomplished and handsome take a second look at someone like me? A man who can have any man or woman fortunate enough to be on the receiving end of his interests. I took a moment to close my eyes and took a moment to center myself and realize that my thoughts were spiral into the toxic self-deprecating negativity that was not conductive to my healing process.

Five, four, three, two, one. Calm. Opening my eyes and letting out a tumulus breath. I tried by best to imagine releasing the defeating thoughts on that same breath. It was one of the many coping techniques my therapist taught me. It worked pretty well most of the time. Another thing I learned was to stop suppressing and feelings, never let things fester. In my case, my therapists encouraged me to allow myself to remember my time in captivity, and analyze feelings about them. See myself as a survivor of someone sickness. Then remember I am a strong person. A person of worth. A person who deserves to love and to be loved.

Holding onto that same energy, a new sense of determination caused my spine to snap ramrod straight. I selected a few of my favorite scented oils and tipped them into the steaming water. I added a dash of my bubble bath and let the foamy bubbles spread across the surface of the rippling water before turning off the taps. Thanks to the plethora of self-education from the wonder that was Google, I’d secretly selected all the self-grooming items I needed make myself smooth and pretty over time from several online shopping sites I’ve found essential to my plan of getting Kamal to see me as someone worth his time and attention.

Kamal has always respected my privacy and never questioned me about any packages that were delivered downstairs in my name, and brought up to the apartment by the front desk concierges. I didn’t have the nerve to have a discussion with my therapist about how to prepare yourself to seduce your crush. Just thinking about how that conversation would go with the ever-patient doctor had my whole body flushing with embarrassment.

Underneath the embarrassment, I didn’t want to be discouraged from pursuing Kamal. I feared being told that I wasn’t ready for a romantic connection. Deep down, I wasn’t ready for anything other than to acknowledge wat was hopefully our mutual attraction to each other, and the potential to take our relationship from the proverbial friend zone to something more. Another take away from my sessions was that sex wasn’t the only facet of a romantic relationship. Intimacy is a thing, companionship and mutual interests is all important too. It had made so much sense to me when the therapist had explained emotional connections as well as physical connections to me.

I feel like I have both with Kamal, I only hoped that I wasn’t the only me who was reding more into what was possibly blooming between us. I was deep into my musings when I was startled by Kamal’s deep voice calling my name from the other side of the closed bathroom door.

“Um…I’m in the tub.” I called out while gawking at the fact that I’d left the lacy teddy and stockings as well as the very personal grooming stockpile on the bathroom counter, well in his line of sight if he peeked his head inside the room, like he was prone to do sometimes to melt my insides with one of his heart stopping smiles. Why, oh why, do I always find myself in the position of embarrassing myself in front of this man. Maybe I should drown myself right now. Death by bubbles is a thing right?

Oh, sweet mercy, the handle on the door started to slowly turn and I jumped into action. Water and bubbles sloshed over the side of the tub as I vaulted for my towel. I’d barely managed to clutch the thick swatch of cloth to my chest and nearly tripped over the lip of the tub in my hurry to shove everything off the counter and out of sight. Soapy bubbles, water, and my own epic uncoordination sent me skidding across the floor. My arms automatically flared out in a pathetic attempt to catch my balance of which it failed to achieve.

Of course, the traitorous towel slipped from my slack fingers as if it had a mind of its own. It snagged around my ankle and tripped me butt first right onto the cold, polished tiled bathroom floor exposing every inch of my slick, bath oiled body. The treacherous universe decided to add insult to injury and making the situation even more mortifying by finally my literal fall to disgrace finally coming to an inelegant stop of limp, tangled wet limbs directly in front of a pair of expensive shiny leather dress shoes.

I snatched the drenched towel from around my ankle, lifted my knees to my chest trying to hide my bits from what I was sure was Kamal’s shocked, pitying gaze. I threw the towel over my head my entire body aflame with my humiliation now complete. If I couldn’t see him maybe he couldn’t see me. Allah, you have forsaken me, I wailed in my head as I rocked back and forth as I mentally willed the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

“Jameel, are you alright?” The concerned tone of Kamal’s voice penetrated my inner flagellation. But my mind was firmly spiraling and all I could think of was escaping this situation altogether. Before he could utter anther word, I hopped up off the bathroom floor and sprinted for the closest door within my limited field of vision, seeing that the towel was still over my head.

Like another time not so long ago in his family’s home back home. I found myself yet again hiding from the one man I wanted to be perfect for in the darkened linen closet. I plopped down on my bruised butt cheeks and wrapped a dry bath towel I snagged off the shelf around my shaking shoulders. I couldn’t even cry at this point. Some seductress I turned out to be, maybe if I stayed in here and waited him out, he would get tired and hungry, and leave so I could wallow in my misery and failures in peace.

I should have known better when I heard his footsteps as he strode across the marbled floor and come to a stop in front of the slotted closet doors. “Habibi, it’s okay. I promise. I just want to make sure you’re not injured.” He gently cajoled as he tapped his fingers on the closed panels. “Will you at least let me in come in and sit with you?”

“No.” I mumbled and continued rocking back and forth trying to self soothe myself from the utter disaster that my evening has turned into.

I heard the sound of fabric shuffling and Kamal deep sigh that sounded heavy with resignation. “Well, this seems like De ja vu. I guess just like last time, I’ll just sit here until you ready for me to make sure you are unharmed and ready to face the world again.”

As embarrassed as I was, I had to slap a hand over my mouth to stifle the giddy little giggle of joy that tried to free itself up my throat. Between his earlier term of endearment, and the fact that he parked himself with determination on the unforgiving bathroom floor to wait me out instead of it being the other way around, had me almost levitating off the ground in happiness. I still wasn’t ready to face him yet, but knowing he was there had me feeling all kinds of tingly inside. He was definitely the man for me. If I could only work up the courage to claim him, then Allah be favored.

Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Kamal

My ass was numb, but I refused to move from my spot on the floor until I could somehow convince my little angel out of the closet once again. An amused smile cured my lips at the irony of finding myself once again battling Jameel’s shyness and sitting on the cold tiles of his bathroom trying to coax him out from behind the closed linen closet door. Another thought hit me that made my smile immediately melt away.

Not for the first time have I wondered if I am going about this situation and possibly taking our friendship to romantic relationship the right way. Jameel was literally imprisoned and forced to endure unmentionable treatment as that sick old perverts love slave. He was never taught about anything other than how to be of service to a pedophile. He was maybe aware of only the fundamentals of a practicing the Muslim faith and the governances of the Nation of Islam. As a Christian, I’m only familiar with the teachings because of my father, and our ties to our homeland. Out of respect for family and business, my siblings and I had to be well versed in religion so as not to be offensive by ignorance.

The gray areas were abundant in our situation. First and foremost, we are of the same sex, having a relationship or courtship of any kind between us is haram (forbidden). Unfortunately, as a victim of sexual abuse, Jameel would have been shunned from society as impure and ineligible for a family in our standing to pursue courtship. The laws and teachings of Islam are very much not applicable to our unique circumstance, but that does not mean they are not important to Jameel’s spiritual and mental health.

We were going to have to put the options of sexual ideations on the back burner and communicate with each other so that we can figure out our own journey in this thing called life, because I want Jameel as mine, my husband, my partner, my Habibi to care for, to provide him with peace, love, and all the respect he deserves. I’ve already come to terms with the fact that this little desert flower owns every fiber of my being. I think I fell in love with him the first time he blinked those beautiful brown eyes up at me when I freed him from that desolate room.

Shifting to make myself more comfortable on the floor, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. Jameel was going to have to show his sweet face at some point, and mine was going to be the first thing he sees when he does. But until then, I was going to need some advice about how to make this man mine, and the perfect place to seek such advice was none other than my parents. A couple who has overcome so many prejudices and life lessons just to love one another. The very people who created a love story so beautiful, my siblings and I would never settle for anyone until we could find someone to bring us that same energy as our parents have found in each other.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered my thoughts and typed out a message to my Goddess of a mother, the Queen of our little world. There was no going back now, no second guessing. In making my intentions known, I was telling my family in no uncertain terms that Jameel was my prince, the one I want to honor with my name, my love, and my protection for the rest of my days. This was not something to take lightly, or possibly turn around and later change my mind about him. No matter the religion or the beliefs, this was me making my intentions known towards this very special man. Was I ready to make such a commitment? The answer was an absolute yes, as I pressed the send button on the message to my mom.

Not more than maybe ten seconds later my phone vibrated against my thigh. My heart rate kicked up several more beats as I read the one-line message from my mother.

“I’m on my way.”

“Umm…Habibi…Jameel. Baby, I think it’s time to come out now.” I gently persuaded my stubborn little angel only to be met with absolute silence from behind the closed door. I know he’d be even more embarrassed about our current predicament if my mom arrived, and he was only wrapped in a towel. I didn’t want to spook him even further and admit outright that she was on the way, although he adored her just as much as she adored and doted on him.

“Ibni.” I heard my mother call out to me from the foyer just as the closet door flew open and a streak of fluffy white linen flew by straight past my seated position on the floor. I barely had time to compute what was going on as I listened to my mother’s heels as they clicked against the polished marble floors as she made her way down the hall.

I heaved myself up off the floor and as I was brushing off the seat of my pants my mother came to a stop in the doorway of the bathroom.

“Was that Jameel I just saw flying down the hallway?” she asked as her eyes roamed over what must have been my rumpled condition. One sculpted eyebrow was raised in that quiet inquiry only mothers seemed to possess, especially when they are trying to figure out if you were doing something wrong and got caught in the middle of your shenanigans.

Praying my face wasn’t bright red, but the heat I felt creeping up my neck assured me that I was indeed flushing as if I truly was somehow in the wrong.

“Uh…I am assuming so, since the closet is now empty.” I explained as I closed the closet door and turned to face her. “It’s a long story. Why don’t we give Jameel a chance to settle down while we talk about it in the living room? I could really use your advice.” I batted my eyes at my mother like I used to do when I was little to get my way.

“This should be interesting. I hope you’re behaving yourself in the manner of which I raised you, and you’re not allowing yourself to be manwhore, shocking the life out of that sweet baby.” My mother went straight for the juggler per usual. Subserviently discreet would never be a description anyone who knows her could attach to my Empress’ name. “Come on then, before your father gets too far into his emails to pay us any attention.” She decreed before turning on those designer heels and clicked back towards the sitting room with the floral essence of her signature perfume following in her wake.

Wondering if I should take my chances and lock myself away down the hall in my room across from Jameel’s would be an easier option at this point had me shaking my head and praying for strength to have this conversation with my parents. Taking a deep breath, I fortified myself with the knowledge that my parents loved me and they truly cared about my happiness. A little discomfort now was going to be so worth it if the end results was getting my ring on the finger of the man my heart now belonged to.

It took some stumbling through my words and possibly some avoidance of direct eye contact with my parents’ laser focus attention never wavering from face when explaining some of the more sensitive encounters between Jameel and I thus far, and I and how I’d handled them, so my precious one didn’t feel rejected or less than the beautiful soul he was. I was able to ask for their clarification on the situation. I’d poured out all my feelings and doubts to my parents. At some point my father even chucked his iPhone aside and my mother gushed about how she was proud of me, of my chivalrous actions, and my consideration towards Jameel’s mental and physical well-being. She was over the moon with the fact that I was now taking his spiritual health seriously as well. She went through a range of emotions, finally ending up with her being ecstatic for me, and a heaping dose of empathy for her sweet baby Jameel, so much so, she’d left me and father to have a discussion while she went to check on Jameel.

My father rose from his chair and walked over to the wet bar across the room, he selected a fruit spritzer and added ice to a crystal tumbler before pouring the beverage into the glass. Retaking his seat, his dark eyes pinned me in place. With all the seriousness I knew this man possessed as the Patriarch, the very backbone of our family, he asked the one question I was anticipating him to ask. “Are you sure about this Ibni? There are challenges you’re going to face as a gay couple in our society, but how do you plan to make it work, make your intentions known that you want to be Jameel’s husband, especially if you want to observe a halal courtship?”

“If so, Jameel must be appointed a nakim. We must figure out how have a marriage contract in place without his parents being alive or guardian present and available, and most of all, we must consider if we should adhere to the rules of an Islamic courtship because he will be your groom and not your bride. It is forbidden in the religion for you to have any kind relationship other than friendship.” My father pointed it out and I knew he wasn’t being judgmental or disapproving of my intent towards Jameel. He just wanted to make sure I wasn’t under any illusions towards all the adversities we were facing.

“Father, I want him as mine. I want to be his husband. I don’t care if I have light candles daily at the altar in church or bow facing the east praying to Allah from sunup to sundown. I need him more than the air I breathe.”

A stuttered gasp behind me had me swinging around in my chair only to see Jameel standing in the entrance to the sitting room with his dainty little hands covering his mouth and those beautiful chocolate eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Do…do you mean it?” He whispered, but it was loud enough for me to hear his precious question. My mother was standing right behind him with an indulgent smile on her face and her hand covering her heart. A caught a glimpse of a knowing smirk on my father’s lips as I flew out of my chair and rushed to Jameel, to give him the reassurance he seemed so desperately to need from me.

“Habibi, you are my heart, the other piece of my soul. Of course I mean it. I want to be yours as much as I want you to be mine. I don’t want you as an occasional boyfriend or temporary lover. I want you as my husband. I want my intentions to be clear towards you, towards us. I want you to know that you are worthy, you are special, and you are more than the circumstances you’ve had to endure. You’re my one and only love.” I quietly whispered between us as I kissed his slender fingers.

Beautiful tears streamed along his delicate cheeks, and I so wanted to kiss them away, but my mother had other ideas. With a little sigh, she gently pried Jameel’s fingers away from my lips. “As sweet as this is Ibni, it would be remiss of me to allow this to continue. You have a made a serious commitment towards this young man and therefore my darling, you must adhere to the promises made. We have a lot to discuss.” With that being said, my lovely mother guided Jameel away from me towards the love seat next to my father. She promptly sat down and pulled Jameel to sit next to her, he was now situated between her and my father.

I had no choice but to take the chair opposite where they were all now seated and staring back expectantly at me. Jameel’s wide brown eyes held his confusion. He had every right to be uncertain about this entire situation. This whole time we’ve been dancing around our attraction to one another. In my defense, I felt like Jameel needed to have come to terms with his abduction and sexual abuse, he’d literally had to be introduced into not only society, but into the religious communities as well, and I was sure as I lived and breathed, when it came to the teachings and laws of Islam vs Christianity, my sweet baby was more than deficit in knowledge.

This is where I needed to communicate with my future husband, setting all physical attraction aside, and providing him with every opportunity to make an informed decision about his future, and about our future together. His introduction to therapy, and life outside of those horrid four walls that was his prison has been a struggle for him, but one that he has excelled at and overcome so much so far. This is why I solicited my parents’ assistance. There wasn’t a mosque, an imam, or a priest and spiritual leader that would trust to be accepting of our relationship, no matter the advances in modern society with increasing acceptance of the LGBTQIA community.

I wasn’t devout in any religion, Muslim or Christianity. I believe in God; I believe in being a good person. But did I make sure to show up at the tent revival every third Wednesday of the month, Bible study on Tuesdays, and the Church potluck every Sunday afternoon after Sunday service, No I was not and never will be that devout.

Neither was I up at dawn and dusk, kneeling, and praising Allah for seeing me through another day or thanking him for his favor. I have witnessed Jameel quietly observing his prayers in the morning and in the evening. He had almost ripped my heart out when he’d once admitted to me that praying to Allah was his only escape from his nightmare. The fact that he’d held on so strongly to his beliefs during such devastation of his innocence was nothing less than amazing.

So, I was damn sure going to do everything in my power to make sure I complimented Jameel as a whole, in mind, body, and spirit. I don’t mind adhering to the rules of a halal courtship, I don’t mind waiting until our marital bed. The takeaway from this was that I wanted to provide whatever Jameel wanted and needed for the rest of his days. I just hoped and prayed with everything in me, that I was somehow at his side for the remainder of those days, to be the one he favored. But first thing is first, we must figure out what he wanted, and get him what he needed to figure out his happiness. My needs will always come in second place to adorable little minx. He will always be my priority, as he should be.

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Jameel

My focus was split between running my fingers over the luxurious swatches Farrah provided for me to browse through for one of her newest Kaftan designs and my current situation with Kamal. I’ve been fitted, measured, pinned, and adjusted to within an inch of my life. Ever since I gave my consent to walk in the company’s upcoming fashion show, Farrah and her team of designers went from zero to sixty within a matter of weeks, producing design after design for clothing made specifically for me. Farrah explained that my looks would not only emphasize the designs but would also make me a star of the show, and honestly, that’s what scared me the most.

The shy part of me doesn’t want that kind of attention. Still, there is something about the clothes, the different textures, the styles, and the ability to switch from the more masculine pieces to the obviously feminine fashions, that made me feel a sense of freedom I’ve never felt before. For once, I get to choose who I want to be, just as much as not choosing whether I want to identify as either gender at any given time. I get to go with the flow and be myself, going with whatever makes me feel comfortable enough to want to be seen and admired, especially by my soon-to-be fiancé.

Dropping the expensive silks into my lap, I covered my mouth with my hands and squealed for the umpteenth time behind my trembling fingers. Kamal, the kindest, sexiest, and most intriguing male Allah has brought into my life, wanted me as his husband. HE LOVES AND WANTS ME! Most days, I am still in a state of shock over it. If I hadn’t heard it from his own mouth, I would swear I was being punished by the universe all over again. The cruelty of having someone so amazing see past the degradation and the vileness of what happened to me, and still see me as someone precious, only to have it taken away, would be the end of me. It isn’t even me being dramatic. It’s a fact. If I lost Kamal and his fantastic family, I would never be able to recover from it.

“Jameel, Darling. Have you decided on the color for the Hijab to go with the evening gown we discussed earlier?” Farrah breezed into the room with her arms full of notes and pallets of color. She strolled over to the desk and placed the load down before elegantly spinning around and fixing her excited gaze on me.

My eyes traveled down to the pile of material sitting in my lap and then back up to hers. “Um…not really,” I mumbled before releasing a deep sigh. I’ve had so many questions running through my head over the last few weeks since that afternoon in Kamal’s condo, where he declared his desire to be my husband to my face.

“Oh, Sweetie. Are you okay?” Farrah asked as she floated to my side and took the chair opposite mine.

“I don’t even know how to answer that question. Physically, I am okay. Emotionally and mentally, I’m confused.” I can literally feel the spike in my anxiety already. I want to get a better understanding of my situation with Kamal, but I don’t even know where to begin. My thoughts are so jumbled that I can’t even think of a way to form the questions I want to ask. It feels a little embarrassing to ask Kamal’s parents for clarification on the things I like, so I’m hesitant to do so. It’s like asking my own parents about…ugh. I can’t even voice it. I could feel my cheeks heating as I blew out a frustrated breath.

Pressing my cold fingers between the warm palms of her hands, she looked me in the eyes with nothing but concern and sincerity shining from the depths of her chocolate-brown gaze. The dark eyeliner accentuating her eyes made the dark orbs sparkle under the fluorescent lights over our heads. “You know you can always talk to me about anything your little heart desires, or if you don’t feel comfortable talking about certain topics with me, you can always talk to your therapist. We are all here for you. Kamal would love nothing better if you laid your every thought and burden at his feet.” She winked as my cheeks went warm all over again.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I decided to be brave and voice my thoughts. “We may be here for a while then,” I responded.

“I’ve got nothing but time, honey. I have nothing planned for the line other than the color selections for this afternoon, and we can address that whenever we get to it. Have you eaten? Do you need a drink of water or anything?” She asked, but I shook my head. Anything I could put in my stomach would probably make a reappearance at this point. My nerves have my stomach practically doing somersaults right about now.

Focusing on our joined hands, I acknowledged the most pressing issue I currently face. “Kamal has made his intentions clear. He admitted to your parents that he doesn’t mind how we get engaged and married, but he wants to respect my wishes and beliefs. It’s so overwhelming to explain.” I quietly admitted, not taking my eyes off our joined fingers.

“Take your time, love. Just get it off your chest. You will feel better for it. Kamal wants to do right by you in all things. If I know one thing about my brother, I know this. It’s not about gender for him. It’s about love and who his heart wants.” She gently explained what I already knew from being in proximity with the handsome man from the day he rescued me from my prison up until now.

“That’s just it, Farrah. I do believe in a higher deity, Allah, who represented my escape from what I thought was an inescapable existence. The Quran was the only item in that room that didn’t remind me of the man who put me there. Focusing on the words and praying didn’t make the torture any less; it only made it bearable. It kept me sane reading those words and holding on to the tiniest bit of hope that I was being punished for some unknown sin. But those same words condemn a man loving another man or lying with a man as if he were a woman. Even the Christian Bible denounces homosexuality. But for Kamal and me, I find that I don’t really care much. As you say, it’s not about gender. It’s about the heart wanting what it wants.”

“In all honesty, I know that physically I am a man, who likes and wants to be a man, but I also like being feminine, wearing feminine clothing. They make me feel pretty. I have come to realize that romantically, I prefer men. I am attracted to men, particularly I am very much attracted to Kamal above any other man, and there is nothing sinful or wrong about having those desires. Society has no place in how we choose to live or who we choose to love. I don’t want to adhere to any religious customs when it comes to our relationship, yet I don’t want to disappoint anyone by not respecting our combined cultures.”

Squeezing my hands a little tighter, Farrah responded, “Honey, I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like for you to endure all that you’ve had to in your short life so far. I am amazed by your strength and resilience in even considering a relationship with anyone, much less a man. I’m happy the Quran brought you some level of peace. I wish you had never had to experience any of that in the first place. You don’t have to have an Istikhara or a Mangni ceremony. You don’t even have to have a family gathering for your engagement, if you choose not to. I am sure Kamal will agree to anything and everything if you consent to be his husband.” She giggled as she watched the flushed heat spread across my body once again at just the thought of belonging wholly and solely to that man.

She startled me as she suddenly jumped up from her chair and pulled me up out of mine. I didn’t have time to catch the swatches of silk before they floated to the marbled tile at our feet. Before I could voice a protest, she was shuffling me towards her office door. I had to look to see if there was fire or something as she rushed me out of the room. She pulled her cell phone from God only knows where, and she was busy typing away with one hand and propelling out the door with the other.

“I think you should go tell Kamal how you feel about the engagement and make the arrangements that feel right for both of you. I know he is in his office right now, and he should be finished with his conference call.” She said as she barely glanced at the Cartier watch on her delicate wrist.

Shuffling my feet under the length of my emerald green Abaya. I waffled about interrupting Kamal at this very moment. I sincerely thought about pulling my Hijab over my face and making a run for it, but with the way Farrah was purposefully ushering me down the hallway, I knew I wouldn’t make it very far. In a swirl of emerald fabric and Farrah’s Chanel perfume, I was hustled into Kamal’s office. The door behind me closed with a firm click before he could even raise his head to see what all the commotion was about. I was left standing there staring at the man like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

“Not that I am complaining or will ever complain about a surprise visit, Hayati. But what seems to be the rush of this impromptu visit?” Those sexy lips pulled up into an indulgent smirk as his powerful frame rose from the chair behind his desk, and he made his way across the polished flooring towards me.

And yes, I am brave enough to admit that this man holds the ability to make my knees wobble just a little bit, as those masculine hands ran down the length of my arms to my hands. His touch was warm and comforting as always. I watched wide-eyed, caught in his magnetic gaze as he brought both my hands up those luscious lips and gently kissed each of my fingers. His gaze never left mine as those lips sent little sparks of electricity along the length of my spine. Oh Allah, this man should come with a warning sign worthy of a swoon stamped across his forehead.

“Is my sister up to something, and you’ve somehow found yourself in the middle of her shenanigans?” He asked as he led me over to the elegant, plush leather loveseat situated in the corner of his spacious office.

I knew by now my cheeks were red and flaming hot, but I powered through it, and word vomited the entire conversation I had with Farrah in under five minutes of sitting there with this incredible man at my side. His whole focus was on me with nothing but understanding, and what I hoped was total adoration in those deep mahogany eyes.

My breath seized in my chest when, without a word, Kamal let go of my hand and quietly rose from the sofa and made his way over to his desk. His gaze held me paralyzed in place as he pulled something from a drawer. I couldn’t have cared less what it was; those eyes had me hypnotized by the heat and intensity that seemed to burn from within the man himself. I was helpless as I watched him make his way back over towards me.

The air that was trapped in my lungs spluttered out on a startled gasp when Kamal dropped to one knee in front of me. My eyes must have looked like they had taken over my entire face when he opened the little velvet box, hidden in the palm of his large hand. He removed the most stunning diamond ring I have ever seen in my life from its velvet housing and gently took hold of my left hand.

“(Anta aghla ma fi hayati) “You are the most precious thing in my life.” Uhibbuka akthar mimma yumkin an tatahayal “I love you more than you imagine.” Will you do the extreme honor of becoming my husband?” His deep voice and the seriousness of his words endearment finally penetrated my addled brain.

There was nothing else left for me to do but immediately burst into tears as my head bobbed up and down. Words were beyond me at this point. Kamal happily slid the ring into place my finger. Now I’m not vain or anything, but I was never more grateful that we weren’t in the presence of his entire family and his plethora friends when this man decided to propose because there was nothing pretty or demure about this scene. I am sure my face was blotchy, and snot was mixed in with my tears, yet here this man was kissing me all over my face and loving on me like I wasn’t an absolute mess. He continued like I was the most precious thing in his world.

Seconds later, I spoke too soon, by the time Kamal whose smile rivaled the billboard downtown wiped away tears, his entire family burst through his office doors screaming their congratulations. My emotions were all over the place, I couldn’t do anything other than to burst out laughing as I was literally swept up off the couch by his mother. I found myself in the middle of an epic group hug. The love I felt in the moment brought my entire life into perspective. There was happiness after tragedy, you just had to be brave enough to accept it.

1. Prologue
2. Chapter 1
3. Chapter 2
4. Chapter 3
5. Chapter 4
6. Chapter 5
7. Chapter 6
8. Chapter 7
9. Chapter 8
10. Chapter 9
11. Chapter 10
12. Chapter 11
13. Chapter 12
14. Chapter 13
15. Chapter 14
16. Chapter 15
17. Chapter 16
18. Chapter 17
19. Chapter 18
20. Chapter 19
21. Chapter 20
22. Chapter 21
23. Chapter 22
24. Chapter 23
25. Chapter 24
26. Chapter 25
27. Chapter 26
28. Chapter 27