Angel and the Assassin 3: Sins of the Father

be truthful.”
    “Horrible, Sir,” Angel said at once. “Irritable. Angry. I want this thing out of my
    ass, Sir!”
    Oh my God. What am I doing ? All his best intentions had fled because Daddy had
    surprised him with something disagreeable.
    “Accept. Be one with the discomfort. Stay present. What did I flog you with?”
    “I don’t know, Sir. It wasn’t the paddle. And it was too hard for a strap.”
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    “It’s a cane. Now I’m going to flog you again, just a few strokes, but it’s going to
    hurt like hell. Canes do too much damage if they are used for too long. Are you
    present?”
    Gathering all his resources, all his determination, Angel said, “Yes, Sir. Yes, Sir!”
    “Good lad. So I know you are with me, you will count out loud. Ready?”
    “Yes, Sir.” For five agonizing, mind-blowing strokes, Daddy flayed his buttocks
    while Angel counted out loud. The pain of the first stroke shot through his body, but
    still he managed to say, “One, Sir,” in a ragged voice. Two and three were slightly
    easier. The pain was the same, but he knew he was progressing. Two more strokes were
    coming, and the realization made him wonder if he could do it. He wanted the pain to
    end and the itching in his ass to be soothed. He wanted peace. Stroke number four came
    while his mind protested, and he could not utter the word.
    “I’m waiting,” Daddy said.
    For a split second, Angel had no idea what Daddy was waiting for. Oh right ! He
    had to count. “Five, Sir.”
    “That was number four, boy.”
    Oh God . There was another one coming. It would be more bearable if the itching,
    burning pain in his asshole would stop. “Four, Sir.”
    The final blow ripped across his buttocks. Gasping, Angel cried out with intense
    relief, “Five, Sir.”
    “How do you feel, boy?” Daddy’s voice filtered through the fog of pain like an
    anchor to hold on to.
    Floggings usually gave him a hard-on, but the distraction of the thing in his ass
    took away his pleasure, and he felt nothing but the pain. “I love you, Sir. I love you, my
    Master.” In all his short life, Angel had never meant anything more than he meant those
    words.
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    “I’m proud of you,” Daddy said. “You can withstand pain that would have half
    my class at SIS on their knees begging me to stop. Leather subs are the bravest people I
    know.” As he spoke, Daddy’s big hands tenderly stroked Angel’s body, over his back
    and chest, up and down his thighs, and over his inflamed buttocks. For a while, Daddy
    stopped touching him, and Angel was aware that Daddy’s body warmth had
    disappeared. When he returned, he began smoothing comforting arnica into Angel’s
    buttocks. The familiar scent of the arnica cream filled his head. Angel associated it so
    strongly with the dungeon that when he’d smelled it in the Body Shop recently when he
    was out with Jack, he got an erection.
    The burning in his anus had begun to dull even before Daddy slipped the thing
    out of him.
    “I’m going to put some Vaseline in your arsehole to help it feel better,” Daddy
    said.
    “Thank you, Sir.” Now that the pain and discomfort were over and he had borne it
    bravely, tears of relief began to flow, causing his nose to become stuffed up.
    “I’m going to get you down,” Daddy said.
    Finally allowing himself to drift, Angel felt himself floating as Daddy carried him
    to the leather-topped torture table and flipped him onto his belly. The stiffness in his
    arms made itself felt as soon as they were untied. Daddy rubbed each one in turn to get
    the blood flowing again. Then his feet were released from the ankle cuffs. When he was
    done, Daddy stood beside him massaging Angel’s back. “Brave boy. My wonderful
    brave boy. I love you so much.”
    “That was tough, Daddy,” he said. Wanting only comfort now, he was Daddy’s
    boy again.
    “I know, and you were really brave. Can you sit up?” Slowly Angel eased himself
    into a sitting position and got down from the table, stretching his arms and legs and
    flexing his muscles to loosen his body. “Good boy, good boy,” Daddy said. “Come on,
    sweetheart, let’s go to bed.”
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    In the bedroom, Daddy lay on his belly on top of the duvet and Angel saw for the
    first time the bruises blossoming on Daddy’s ass from the paddling he’d given him.
    “My bum hurts,” Daddy moaned.
    Snuggling up