Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

Daddy had surprised him after his
    homework was done by asking, “How much pain can you take without going into
    subspace?” Angel had only smiled and shrugged while his cock grew thick.
    Daddy got into the small shower stall with him. It was so narrow that their bodies
    pressed together while they washed, touching at the thighs and the hips, their bellies
    and backs moving against each other, just like when they were in bed. All Angel’s
    questionable behavior over the last few days, his stupidity at the bar, spending the
    Fyn Alexander | Sins of the Father
    98

    night vomiting and pissing himself, throwing tantrums because Daddy wanted
    something he didn’t, the embarrassing STD examination at the health clinic while
    Daddy stood watching, arms crossed over his chest and an impatient look on his face—
    none of it mattered now.
    They were in the dungeon, in their sacred space where no one could intrude and
    the world did not matter. Angel lived for those moments when he was completely
    Daddy’s possession and his only duty, his only desire in the world was to obey and
    please his master.
    They stepped out onto the mat. Angel grabbed a clean towel and got on his knees
    to rub Daddy’s legs dry, working his way up. When Daddy was taken care of, Angel
    rubbed the towel quickly over his body and then waited. He wanted Daddy to hug him,
    but he wasn’t going to be needy or self-centered. He was going to be perfectly obedient.
    Daddy reached out, placing his hand tenderly on Angel’s cheek, looking down at him.
    Six months ago, he would have thrown his arms around Daddy’s waist and hugged
    him tight, but he knew better now. That kind of behavior was for the bedroom or
    anywhere else in the house where they were Daddy and Angel. Right now, in the
    dungeon, they were master and slave.
    “You’ve started calling me Sir when we’re in the dungeon. Just Sir, not Daddy.
    Why’s that?”
    “Sir, I want to be your Daddy’s boy for the rest of my life, but I want to learn to be
    a good slave as well. In here it’s like a different world. This is the one place I can strive
    to be perfect. Outside I screw up all the time and you forgive me and then I screw up
    again. It’s real life, but this is like another plane of existence. Am I making sense, Sir?”
    he asked very seriously. “Or am I rambling like an idiot?”
    “Perfect sense, boy.” Daddy smiled. “Go and stand by the flogging post.”
    “Yes, Sir.” With long, dignified strides, Angel walked toward the beautiful
    whipping post. Daddy had not flogged him at the post in some months, and he had
    grown taller since the last time. The hook was well above his head, and he had had to
    Fyn Alexander | Sins of the Father
    99

    rise up on his toes when his handcuffed hands were hooked over the large metal hook
    at the top. Now he would likely be able to keep his feet flat on the floor.
    Waiting in perfect posture, Angel watched Daddy choosing a paddle from those
    hung on the wall. He took one down, and with his long, elegant stride, Daddy came
    back to him, carrying a thick, heavy paddle, thirteen inches long and vicious looking.
    Biting his lower lip in anticipation, Angel closed his eyes dreamily.
    “Take it, slave.”
    Opening his eyes wide, Angel looked up at Daddy. “Sir?”
    “Take the paddle.”
    With both hands, Angel took the instrument, surprised at how heavy it was. No
    wonder it hurt. But it was an incredible, mind-blowing, wonderful pain. He raised it to
    his lips and kissed it, inhaling the mellow scent of the leather before offering it back to
    Daddy.
    With one finger, Daddy indicated that he should move aside. Angel obeyed,
    watching in confusion as Daddy stepped in front of the flogging post and reached up to
    grasp the hook with both hands. Spreading his feet to about eighteen inches apart and
    taking a firm stance, he said, “Flog my arse.”
    “Sir?” All of Angel’s desire to be the perfect, obedient slave was thrown into
    confusion. “I don’t understand, Sir.”
    “Step back, take a firm stance, and flog my arse.”
    His confusion growing, Angel stammered, “I-I can’t. I can’t. I don’t know how. Sir,
    I can’t do that to you.”
    “Do it now.” Daddy turned his face to the front, no longer looking at him.
    For long moments, Angel stared at Daddy’s muscular buttocks. There was no fat
    on Daddy’s body—just perfect, smooth skin over muscle. “Daddy, I can’t.” Feeling
    insecure he went back to saying Daddy