Angel and the Assassin

with
    deliberate movements locked the door and put the key out of reach, knowing that
    just the act of being locked in with him had been enough to make many a slave
    spurt his stuff uncontrollably.
    “Strip!” He strode back to Conran.
    “Yes, Sir.”

    Angel and the Assassin
    97

    With shaking hands Conran removed his clothes and carried them across the
    room to hang neatly on the wall hooks. When he turned from the wall, Kael said,
    “Crawl.”
    Dropping to his hands and knees, Conran crawled toward him, his head up,
    looking directly into Kael‟s eyes, seeming desperate for approval. “Good boy.”
    If only he had known when he was twelve years old and the only boy in school
    he was afraid of was sixteen-year-old Stephen Conran, that one day he would have
    Conran crawling on the floor begging to be fucked.
    Conran came to a halt at Kael‟s feet. “Stand up. Over here.” He beckoned
    Conran over to the leather-topped torture table. “Stand right here.”
    Conran obeyed, looking into Kael‟s eyes, then dropped his head and threw his
    arms around Kael‟s chest, hugging him, his head resting on Kael‟s shoulder.
    Conran‟s blood-filled cock pressed against Kael‟s thighs.
    “I really should flog you for touching me without permission, but I am willing
    to accept an apology.”
    “I‟m sorry, Sir,” Conran said, his voice breathless, but even then he did not
    move right away. “Forgive me.”
    “Come on, boy; let‟s have you standing to attention.” Kael‟s tone was a mixture
    of amusement and boredom, though in fact he was always highly aroused at having
    a willing man in his power, even if it was only Conran. He took two steps back away
    from Kael, his arms at his sides.
    “Feet apart,” Kael said. “More, a good eighteen inches.”
    Conran struggled to be exact, looking down at his feet, his breath labored.
    “Good. Brace your legs. That‟s it. Back straight.” Conran straightened his

back, glancing at Kael with a certain amount of shyness.
    He so wants to please me; that’s good.
    “Hands behind your head.” Conran‟s arms shot up to his head. When his
    elbows drooped, Kael put his hands underneath them, pushing upward until they
    were angled out straight. “Good. Now do not move.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    The next part was always fun. From the metal shelves along the wall, Kael
    began to choose instruments, bringing them over one at a time and laying them on
    the torture table. The effect was similar to going to the dentist, getting in the chair,
    and seeing that tray beside the arm with terrifying-looking probes and scrapers all
    laid out meticulously, waiting to be used. It scared the hell out of a sub.
    The first thing he brought was a shiny steel spreader bar with leather-padded
    ankle cuffs attached to each end.
    “Stephen.” Kael stood in front of him, looking down into his eyes. He had never
    before called Conran by his given name. They did it the old-fashioned way at
    College Grange, all the boys called by their surnames. Doing it now enhanced Kael‟s

    98
    Fyn Alexander

    superiority. It was a bit like the doctor who called you by your first name, but you
    were supposed to call him by his title because you were not his equal.
    “Stephen, have you ever been flogged?”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Who flogged you?”
    It came out in a whisper. “A prostitute, Sir.”
    “A prostitute?” Kael repeated loudly. “Male or female?”
    “Female, Sir.”
    “Well, I‟m sure she did an excellent job, but her arm couldn‟t have been as
    strong as mine.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    Leaving him looking sideways at the table, Kael strode purposefully but slowly
    back to the shelves. Ball weights—they‟d look good on him. He picked up the ten-
    ounce weight, hefted it in his hands, and put it back. It would be too much for a
    novice. Snatching the six-ounce weight and several condoms, he carried them back
    to the table and set them beside the spreader bar.
    Conran‟s cock jutted straight out, thick and engorged. A vein stood out
    prominently, pulsing as Kael looked at it. “Do you know what I‟ll do to you if you
    come without permission, Stephen?”
    “Flog me, Sir?”
    “No. In my dungeon flogging is for pleasure only; it‟s a reward. If you come
    without my permission, I‟ll smack you in the face and throw you out without your
    clothes, and you‟ll have to find your way home naked.” Conran‟s eyes opened wide
    with fear. He knew Kael meant every word he said. He knew what Kael