Angel and the Assassin

first and was mortified to have
    done something wrong.
    “When you are in this room, you will not move without my permission.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    The corner of Sir‟s mouth tilted, and he brought his hands down under Angel‟s
    armpits to lift him up to a kneeling position. Sir looked at him, tracing the shape of
    Angel‟s nose and mouth with his fingertip. “Pretty boy. Such a sweet rosebud mouth
    and delicate nose. Are you still hungry?”
    Angel shook his head. He wanted to be brave and not needy or complaining. “I
    can wait, Sir. Like you said, cum has lots of protein. Are you going to spank me,
    Sir?”

    Angel and the Assassin
    39

    “Is that what you want?”
    “Oh God, yes!” His response was so instant and heartfelt that Sir laughed.
    “I‟ll spank you when I‟m ready, boy. It‟s my choice, not yours.”
    Sir stood up, forcing Angel to stand up with him. He was confused when Sir
    took him by the arm and walked him over to the toilet. “I don‟t need to go again,
    Sir.”
    Sir did not speak, but set to work attaching a metal hose with a long, sleek,
    shiny steel nozzle to the tap and testing the warmth of the water and the strength
    of the flow. “Down on your hands and knees.”
    Angel dropped to the floor at once, not wanting to be disciplined but nervous of
    what was coming. Watching over his shoulder, he saw Sir lubricate the nozzle with
    petroleum jelly “Is that an enema hose, Sir?”
    Sir met his eyes. “It certainly is. Any objections?”
    Actually he had lots. His fantasies had never included enemas. It took him
    several seconds to respond. “No, Sir.”
    “Good. Eyes on the floor.” Angel obeyed and waited.
    The feel of the cold, smooth nozzle sliding up his rectum made him suck in a
    breath. His cock rose up stiffer. When the water began to flow, warm and gentle, he
    dropped his head, suddenly overcome with weakness. His muscles felt like jelly, and
    he moaned from his open mouth.
    “I want you nice and clean when I fist you,” Sir said as though he were talking
    about something quite mundane. “I enjoy fisting. It‟s very intimate.”
    Suddenly unable to support his weight, Angel slid down flat on the floor,
    stretching his legs out and resting his head on one arm, forcing Sir to bend lower to
    keep the nozzle in place. He felt weak and helpless and waited to be disciplined. Sir
    said nothing but continued flooding warm water into his bowel. A sudden cramp
    ripped through Angel‟s gut, and he cried out.
    “Are you cramping, boy?”
    The concern in Sir‟s voice brought tears to his eyes. He moaned louder.
    Sir pulled the nozzle out, picked Angel up from the floor as easily as if he were
    a rag doll, and sat him on the toilet. “Let it all go, boy.”
    Angel‟s bowels opened. “Sir,” he moaned, his arms wrapped around his belly.
    Horrified to find himself in this humiliating position with all it entailed, he looked
    up at Sir, his cheeks scarlet. A tear ran down his face.
    Sir reached out to wipe away the tear with the pad of his thumb. “Don‟t be
    upset, boy; you‟re doing really well.”
    “Am I, Sir?” Angel asked, anxious for approval.
    “Yes, really well. When you‟re done, get in the shower.” Angel watched Sir
    walk away, the muscles in his buttocks moving under his tight skin, marveling at
    how handsome and masculine he was. He had spent the last couple of years

    40
    Fyn Alexander

    dreaming about a leather daddy, never suspecting that one so damn hot would walk
    into his life in such a strange way. It was like a dream.
    When his bowels were empty, he flushed the toilet, stepped quickly into the
    shower, and soaped his backside with great care. Sir valued cleanliness; he knew
    that already. He stepped out and dried himself off.
    Angel‟s silvery eyes had never tolerated light very well, and he was relieved
    when Sir turned the lights lower. The bright-enough-for-surgery atmosphere
    mellowed into a cocoon of sensual possibility. Between the hot shower and the
    subdued lighting Angel began to feel at peace and ready to face anything Sir chose
    to do.
    Sir walked over to the leather sling, beckoning him with one finger. “Come on,
    boy; don‟t dawdle.” Angel hurried toward him. Sir scooped him up in his arms and
    dumped him in the sling. Utterly content with all of Sir‟s attention focused on him,
    Angel shifted his body about until he was comfortable.
    “Do you know what a safe word is?”
    “No, Sir.”
    “It‟s a word you use only when