Angel and the Assassin

intently, all his senses focused on his rectum. Daddy‟s hypnotic
    voice soothed and calmed him. An all-encompassing sense of security settled over
    him, and he knew that this big, strong, dangerous man had his best interests at
    heart.
    “Boy, I want you to get out of your head now and focus only on what is
    happening to your backside. I‟m fucking you with my hand. Put all your awareness
    into where my arm meets your body. Scream as loud as you want. The room is
    soundproofed. But no more intellectualizing. It‟s time to feel.”
    Daddy pushed his hand farther in, and Angel felt his anus close around
    Daddy‟s thick wrist. For half a minute Daddy paused, allowing him to experience
    the stillness while being completely controlled, possessed, and owned.
    Then it began, at a steady, uncompromising pace. Daddy began to fuck him
    with his fist. The screaming, burning pressure in Angel‟s rectum completely
    overwhelmed him. The hood blocked out everything unnecessary in the world at
    that moment. The only thing that existed was Daddy with his thick, muscled arm,
    sliding his hand in and out of Angel‟s rectum, always stopping at the wrist, but
    Angel wanted more and he knew he could take more.

    44
    Fyn Alexander

    “Green!” The word broke from his parched throat. “Daddy, please, I want more.
    Go deeper, please, Sir.”
    “Good boy.”
    Angel‟s cock felt stretched to its limit; his balls strained at the thin sac that
    held them. A sensation of coolness washed over his anus, and Daddy‟s hand slipped
    in deeper. “That‟s my boy,” Daddy repeated over and over while he pushed his arm
    farther in, impossibly deeper. Angel had no idea how far in Daddy‟s arm had thrust.
    He felt impaled.
    A sudden and violent climax came forth in a great rush, flooding his body. He
    raised his head, dragging on his restraints, and screamed. A thin stream of warm
    cum shot into the air. His head rolled from side to side. His arms and legs tensed
    until he thought they would snap. He no longer had any control over his body; it
    reacted without his consent or direction, arching his back, jerking violently as the
    spasms ran through him. The orgasm rolled on and on in great waves, and just
    when he thought it was over, another wave swept over him, taking his breath away,
    so intense he felt faint.
    Slowly, tenderly, Daddy withdrew his arm. Several more mildly orgasmic
    contractions followed his exit and then ceased. At last Angel fell back against the
    leather sling, panting, sweating, knowing he would never again smell soft, warm
    leather without becoming aroused.
    Angel sensed that Daddy had walked away, but he knew also that Daddy was
    there somewhere in the room taking care of him, supporting him. With infinite
    patience he waited for his return, knowing that if he lay restrained in the sling for
    the next week, Daddy would be there somewhere watching over him, keeping him
    safe. Without speaking or moving, he rested, waiting patiently. The orgasm had
    brought the most intense relief, releasing much of the fear and confusion that had
    been building since that surreal moment of watching Sven die, followed by the
    fragmented and screaming horror of believing he, Angel, would die next.
    The moments in the shower before Daddy had spoken to him, assuring him he
    would not hurt him, had been endless, cutting through all the tenuous stability
    Angel had built up since going back to live with his mother after all those years
    away.
    Angel felt accepted and absorbed into the granite presence of his new daddy.
    “How‟s my boy doing?” The voice came from across the room, followed by the
    sounds of running water.
    A smile cracked Angel‟s face. “ My boy .”
    “I‟ll never be the same again, Daddy,” he said, knowing it was true. “I couldn‟t
    stop myself from coming; it just happened.”
    Though he did not hear his approach, he felt Daddy‟s hands on his ankles,
    unfastening the buckles and lifting his feet out of the loops. “I forgive you, Angel.”
    He heard a smile in Daddy‟s voice.

    Angel and the Assassin
    45

    “Thank you, Daddy.” Angel‟s wrists were untethered, but still he did not move,
    waiting for permission. Daddy walked back to the foot of the sling between his
    thighs.
    “Give me your hands, boy.”
    Angel stretched out both hands, and Daddy grasped them firmly, pulling him
    to his feet. It took half a minute to gain his equilibrium; his legs quivered as his
    weight rested on them.
    With both