Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

have
    to learn to stay present so you could be aware of opportunities to make a move.
    Understand?”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Right, good. That’s what we’re going to practice now.”
    “Okay,” Angel said uncertainly, then quickly, “yes, Sir.”
    “Are you scared?”
    “A little, Sir.”
    “You don’t have to do it,” Daddy said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.
    “Daddy, I’m ready for anything as long as you’re there to take care of me.”
    “That’s my boy.” Angel cried out when Daddy grasped his nipples with his
    fingers and thumbs, twisting the silver bar studs. “Remember when I pierced your
    nipples?”
    “Yes, Sir.” He smiled. “How could I forget?”
    “The pain was sudden and unexpected, but you did really well. You stayed
    present and didn’t shit yourself like you thought you were going to.”
    “Yes, Sir, but the initial pain was over very quickly, and I didn’t know it was
    coming. I was hooded, remember?” Daddy nodded. “The pain that lasted afterward
    was the real killer, but you gave me paracetamol for it.”
    An I beam with large, strong hooks sticking out was fixed to the ceiling. Angel
    had never been suspended before and he had wondered how it would feel, but
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    whenever he asked about it, Daddy always said, “I do things in my own time, not my
    slave’s time.” Biting his lower lip, he looked at Daddy’s face, trying to figure out what he
    was thinking.
    Daddy positioned Angel directly under two hooks about ten inches apart. “Stay
    put.” At the shelves, he began to choose his tools—which was a part of their play Angel
    always found exciting. Daddy would gather what he wanted to use and place the items
    with great care on the torture table nearby. Angel could scarcely contain his arousal
    watching the procedure. His cock grew longer and thicker, filling with blood and
    becoming hypersensitive. If he so much as stroked it lightly at that moment, he would
    come, and he couldn’t let that happen. To get control of himself, he took deep breaths
    and looked away.
    “Are you having a hard time, boy?” Daddy stood in front of him, his hands on
    Angel’s shoulders.
    “It’s watching you assemble your equipment that does it, Sir. I get hard just
    thinking about it sometimes when I’m bored in class.”
    The look on his face must have been as pained as he felt, because Daddy said
    gently, “Would you like Daddy to put you out of your misery?”
    “Yes please, Sir.” He expected Daddy to fetch a cock ring to help him control
    himself, but instead he took Angel’s cock in his palm, squeezed hard, and pulled, one
    jerk, two, and Angel’s sperm shot onto the floor as his orgasm ripped through his body.
    Crying out, he fell against Daddy’s chest, breathing hard.
    “There’s a good boy. Feel better?”
    “Oh, Sir,” he panted. “You are the best master in the universe. I was expecting a
    cock ring, Sir.”
    “I’m a good master?” Daddy teased.
    “The best, Sir,” Angel said fervently. “The very best.”
    For the next while, the dungeon was silent but for Angel’s labored breath.
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    Taking ankle cuffs and a twelve-inch spreader bar, Daddy cuffed and spread
    Angel’s ankles. Twelve inches was a comfortable distance and didn’t affect his balance
    in any way, so he stood perfectly still. Angel didn’t look round when Daddy went
    behind him, but remained looking straight ahead, accepting, trying not to anticipate or
    predict anything. He was completely in the moment.
    “Put your hands behind your back.” Angel obeyed at once. “Now grasp your
    elbows with your opposite hands as if you are crossing your arms behind.” Again
    Angel obeyed. With a long length of cotton rope, Daddy expertly bound Angel’s arms
    together from the wrists to the elbows until he could no longer move them. With his
    ankles secured and his arms bound, a sense of perfect serenity began to descend over
    him. Immobilized, Angel was utterly in Daddy’s power, subject to Daddy’s will and
    desires. It was his absolute sense of trust in the man he had gifted himself to that
    brought about his peace.
    “You’re going to wear a hood,” Daddy said with no margin for discussion. “You
    may choose which one.” Angel always chose the same hood, the one that left the mouth
    and nose exposed and did not tie around the neck. As much as he loved to be bound
    and helpless, he still held