Angel and the Assassin

please, Daddy.”
    Kael pressed his fingers over the boy‟s mouth. “Listen to me; listen very
    carefully. He must not know you are in the room. He especially must not hear your
    voice, or he‟ll know who you are.”
    Angel nodded.
    “Not a word, do you understand? Not a sound. Don‟t cough, don‟t sneeze, and
    do not move from the door.” He looked down at Angel‟s bare feet. “Silent.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    “Good boy.” Kael opened the door. The fractional change in temperature as
    they both entered alerted Conran that something had changed. He turned his head
    as if trying to look around him. “Sir, are you there?”
    “Yes,” Kael said. Conran visibly released the tension he was holding.
    Kael indicated with a gesture that Angel was to remain by the door and stand
    at attention, before he locked the door again. Free once again to make noise, Kael
    walked to the table and took a thick tube of lubricant, squirting a blob of the gel
    into his palm. “I‟m going to lubricate your anus, Stephen, so that it will be nice and
    slippery and easy to access. I like my boys completely available and exposed when
    I‟m ready for them.”
    Conran‟s entire body shuddered involuntarily at the words as if a small
    orgasm had wracked it. “Yes, Sir.”
    Going behind Conran, Kael leaned down to look. The spreader bar held his
    ankles at such a distance from one another that his buttocks remained parted, the
    anus exposed. Kael slapped the shiny gel between the buttocks. It was cold, making
    Conran release a strange sound and tip his head back.
    “Lovely.” Kael spoke as if to himself while massaging the contracting anus. He
    pushed his index finger inside the muscle and massaged in a circular motion. “Oh
    splendid. A nice tight arsehole; there‟s nothing like it in the universe. I live for
    moments like this. A boy on his knees begging to be violated by me. His arse tight
    and tensed, at the ready. His cock standing to attention like a wanton soldier on the
    battlefield.” He laughed indulgently, knowing the power every word and every
    sound he made had on his submissive. He drew his finger out and landed a full,
    openhanded slap to Conran‟s backside. “I‟m very pleased with you, boy.”

    Angel and the Assassin
    101

    “Thank you, Sir.”
    “Now Stephen, since I know you are longing for my cock to ream you and since
    you have to wait a little longer, I am going to be kind.” He took the butt plug and
    leaned down to push it under Conran‟s nose. “Smell the rubber.” Conran inhaled
    deeply. “Feel it.” Kael ran the smooth side of the three-inch plug over Conran‟s
    cheeks and forehead. “Smooth like satin. I‟m going to insert it into your rectum now
    as a teaser for things to come. Would you like that, Stephen?”
    “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” Conran said. He went silent and completely still
    while the short length of the plug slid inside him and the muscles of his anus closed
    around the ridge of the hilt, locking it in place.
    “Is that nice, Stephen?” Kael asked, rocking the butt plug up and down.
    “Yes, Sir,” he gasped.
    “Crawl,” Kael ordered.
    It was nearly impossible to move forward with the spreader bars in place,
    especially with the crossbar. Conran tried numerous ways to propel himself and
    finally managed to achieve a type of bunny hop, all the while moaning and panting.
    The little progress he made looked exhausting.
    Kael looked at Angel, who stood with his back to the wall and his hands
    holding his erect cock. He was breathing hard, but Conran did not notice, he was so
    consumed with his own pleasure and fear. Kael shook his head very slightly, and
    Angel took his hands away from his cock. Kael nodded his approval, very pleased
    that Angel was alert to direction and instantly obedient.
    Kael looked down at Conran, knowing it was time to flog him. “Stop and
    remain still. Stephen, when you were flogged by the prostitute, what instrument of
    pleasure did she use?”
    Seeming very relieved that he could cease the exhausting movement, Conran
    became immobile, waiting, his buttocks tensed. “Sir, she used a paddle.”
    “Keep still, boy! Wooden or leather?”
    “I think it was wooden, Sir.” He began to pant heavily.
    “Wood is good, but I think I‟ll use leather.” Kael went to fetch a paddle from
    the wall. It was a vicious-looking instrument, thirteen inches of double thick flexible
    leather, beautifully stitched together, and with a good long handle to