Angel and the Assassin

with him, no matter what he said.
    I’ll end up on my own again, just like I always do.
    Quietly, so as not to disturb him, Angel got up and, without bothering to dress,
    wandered out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He looked about the flat
    for signs of exactly who John Carpe was.
    Though it was spartan, he actually liked the decor. It was simple and
    comfortable, all black leather furniture, dark wood floors, and white walls. The
    living room extended into a dining room area, with a glass-topped table and leather-
    covered chairs set about it. It looked like no one had ever eaten there. At the
    window, the nighttime skyline, indigo blue dotted with lights, reminded him of New
    York, where he lived with his mom and Sven in the winter. The difference was that
    Sven‟s apartment, though it was lavish, looked lived-in.
    John Carpe had no magazines on the coffee table, no plants on the end tables,
    no pictures of family on the walls. And everything was perfectly clean. It was like a
    show apartment for a real estate agent, not a home.

    36
    Fyn Alexander

    Angel wandered through the kitchen, opening the fridge again in hopes
    something would appear that had not been there before. The cupboards were empty
    too—only dishes, but no food. The only thing he could find to drink were bottles of
    water and some booze he had noticed in the living room resting on the top of a long,
    gleaming glass-and-oak sideboard.
    In the entrance hall was the coat closet with a high shelf Angel was too short
    to look at and several expensive coats carefully hung up. There was a spare
    bedroom, furnished but obviously unused. A second door along the passage revealed
    what appeared at first to be a home gym. Scanning the room further, he realized it
    was a dungeon—a BDSM playroom.
    Like the rest of the place, the room was white with a hardwood floor. The
    windows were covered completely with very tight-fitting blinds so that no light
    could enter. He stood at the door and looked about him.
    Hooks hung from a reinforced I beam in the ceiling, a black steel cage like the
    kind people used for dogs but much sturdier sat beside the wall, and beside that
    stood a black metal standing cage. A webbed leather sling on a strong metal frame
    with loops to place the hands and feet made him let out a long, soft moan. Angel
    had seen equipment like this on BDSM Web sites and longed to experience it.
    On the far wall a series of metal shelves were attached, and on them lay
    towels, paper towel, jars of creams, enema equipment, and other things Angel did
    not recognize. Hanging from hooks on the wall were various floggers and wooden
    and leather paddles. In the middle of the room there was a wood-framed, leather-
    topped torture table and a bondage chair with leg supports to strap the legs apart.
    On the other side of the room were a comfortable leather couch and a small fridge.
    “Holy dream come true!” he said out loud.
    “Is that right?”
    “Shit!” Angel jumped, realizing he was not alone. “You‟ve got to stop coming up
    on me like that, Sir.” His heart pounded as adrenaline surged through his blood. He
    grabbed his cock and squeezed.
    Sir looked him up and down. “Are you scared of me?”
    “You think?” Angel quickly corrected himself. “Sir, you have a disconcerting
    habit of coming upon me unawares. If you would refrain from doing that, I would be
    much less likely to piss myself, Sir.”
    Sir laughed. “You can be quite well-spoken when you‟re not saying like and
    dude.”
    “Thank you, Sir. Please note I did not actually piss myself this time. I only did
    it the first time because I thought you were going to kill me.”
    Sir looked into his eyes and said, “I was never going to kill you.” He pointed
    across the room to where a toilet stood with no enclosure around it, and beside it a
    small sink and a plain shower stall. “Go and use the loo.”
    Angel hurried over to the toilet and urinated. When he looked up, he saw Sir
    locking the door and placing the key on the top of the door frame. Being so tall, Sir‟s

    Angel and the Assassin
    37

    reach was over eight feet. Angel knew he could not get the key if he wanted to leave.
    He shivered, his cock growing stiff.
    “What are you going to do to me, Sir?” he whispered, nervous and wildly
    excited at the same time.
    “Anything I think you can handle, but nothing more, so don‟t be afraid. This
    has to be fun for us both, or it‟s no fun for either of