Angel and the Assassin

man‟s belts was laid
    out on a hanger. He took a wide black leather belt and then turned to look at
    Weirstein while he slapped it against his palm, feeling its weight and enjoying the
    smell of the good quality leather. It was an expensive belt from a high-end shop. It
    would hurt. He walked slowly back toward Weirstein, knowing his languid stroll
    would serve to arouse the man further in this vulnerable position. He watched
    Weirstein‟s chest heave, his buttocks tightening and releasing rhythmically.
    “Bow your head and close your eyes, boy.”
    “Yes, Sir.”
    Kael stood directly behind Weirstein, where the man could not see him. The
    stance often terrified a sub and increased their excitement.
    “Please, Sir, I beg you to begin.” There was desperation in Weirstein‟s voice.
    Taking his pleasure at a kill was always a risk, but the hotel was quiet and
    Weirstein was settling down for the night, so he was not expected anywhere nor
    expecting visitors. Still, there was no time to properly warm him up. “It‟s going to be
    hard and fast, so not a sound,” Kael warned him.
    “Thank you, Master.”
    Kael raised his muscular arm, bringing the belt down hard across the middle
    of the buttocks. Weirstein flinched but did not move more than a fraction of an inch.
    The leathery skin on his buttocks attested to many previous floggings, and Kael
    knew he could go all out. “I see you like a cane. Your backside tells the story.”
    “Yes, Sir, but I do not have one with me. Perhaps another time, Master.”
    “Perhaps.” Kael raised his arm again and landed a volley of hard, fast blows.
    The crack of leather against flesh and the hiss of the belt as it flew through the
    air were the only sounds in the silent room. Weirstein neither moved nor seemed to
    breathe. For a full five minutes, Kael belted the backside in front of him, his own

    10
    Fyn Alexander

    cock growing harder with every blow. When the buttocks were scarlet and deeply
    welted, he began on the thighs, relentlessly working his way down to the knees and
    back up again. When his cock was ready to explode, he returned to the buttocks,
    thrashing so fast and so hard that sweat ran down his neck and chest.
    The rise and fall of the belt, the steady rhythm of flogging a man was hypnotic.
    When Kael flogged, his instrument became an extension of his arm, each blow
    reverberating through his body. He had to be very careful in a situation like this
    because he tended to lose track of time and to forget where he was once he got into
    the moment with a sub.
    “Master, please, I beg you.”
    For a split second he thought Weirstein was begging him to stop. But the man
    was a seasoned sub; he was begging for permission to climax. Kael had to admire
    the man‟s ability to hold back when he was so stimulated.
    “Do it,” Kael said. “You have my permission.”
    Weirstein grunted out a long, slow climax, his buttocks pumping the air,
    reaching out toward the belt. Before he had finished, Kael dropped the belt and
    pulled on the condom. He gripped the man‟s buttocks in both hands, prying them
    wide apart, and positioned his cock at the tight anus. He thrust hard and deep.
    Almost instantly his orgasm began to rush through his thighs and belly. He took no
    more than four or five violent thrusts before his hot sperm shot out, filling the
    condom. It was all he could do not to scream out his pleasure.
    Grasping the arms of the chair, he leaned forward over the man‟s back, still
    embedded deeply within him. His climax subsided; his breath slowed. For long
    minutes he rested, enjoying the tingling aftermath of a good fuck. “Don‟t move,” he
    whispered, “and don‟t speak.”
    Like a good submissive, Weirstein remained immobile, still breathing heavily,
    bent over, vulnerable and trusting. He appeared utterly at peace.
    Kael slid his limp cock free and walked over to his clothes. From the pocket of
    his trousers, he took the retractable scalpel he liked to use and came up behind the
    man again, his thumb in position on the release button. He moved back into
    position as though he intended to fuck Weirstein a second time, his groin pressed
    against the man‟s hot, welted buttocks, his chest folded intimately over his back.
    “Thank you, Master,” Weirstein said, gratitude heavy in his voice. “Thank you,
    Sir.”
    “You‟re welcome.” Kael pressed the safety button, and the razor-sharp scalpel
    shot deep into the man‟s external jugular