Angel and the Assassin

Scotland. You‟ll get instructions at Edinburgh Castle.”
    “When?”
    “You‟ll meet your contact at nine a.m. tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow?” He was furious.

    136
    Fyn Alexander

    “You want to protect the boy from Andresen‟s Bosnian pals, don‟t you? We
    have an operation in the works to eliminate them; it keeps getting delayed, and now
    we have another problem. Another group is trying to get involved with the one
    Andresen was doing business with. They want a share of the ammunition. The
    brains behind it will be in Edinburgh tomorrow. He is your target.” He hung up.
    “Excellent,” Kael said into the air.
    Angel was loading the dishwasher when he walked into the kitchen. He was
    wearing a pair of the new underwear Kael had bought him, Ergowear bikinis in a
    zebra stripe. Kael had gone out shopping alone to buy clothes for Angel. He had
    eyeballed him for size, and everything fit perfectly.
    “Do you want to sit in the living room, Sir, and I‟ll bring your whiskey?” But
    Angel no longer sat on the couch beside him or in his lap. He sat at his feet or alone
    in an armchair.
    “No. Finish the dishes quickly. We‟re going to spend some time in the
    dungeon.”
    Despite Angel‟s reticence over the last week, an excited smile lightened his
    face at the mention of the dungeon. “Yes, Sir.”
    Kael had fucked him every day for the last week and given him a couple of
    good hard spankings that had had the desired effect, but there had been no
    emotional intimacy between them. This should sort everything out and at the same
    time keep Angel safe until he returned from Scotland. At least he didn‟t have to go
    outside of the UK this time.
    But when he returned, he wanted his boy back.

    * * *
    Fifteen minutes later Angel walked into the dungeon naked, pink, and warm

    from his shower. Sir was scrupulous about being clean before and after they played
    or had sex. Naked and standing with his hands on his hips, Sir waited for Angel to
    come and stand before him. Angel stood at attention, shoulders back, feet apart,
    hands behind his back.
    “I‟m ready to serve you, Sir.”
    “Good lad.” He pointed at the freestanding flogging post. “Every good sub
    should be flogged regularly by his master. It keeps his muscles supple, it tests his
    courage, and it gives him and his master pleasure. A spanking is fun, but you are
    not truly owned until you have been flogged, and I‟ve not yet flogged you.”
    Angel sucked in a fast breath. He had looked at the flogging post every time he
    had been in the dungeon and wondered how it would feel to be bound to it. Now it
    was about to happen, he was nervous, desperate to show his worth. “Yes, Sir, I‟m
    ready.”
    “Tell me what you want, boy, and what you don‟t want.”
    All he truly wanted was to be valued and loved. “You‟re the master, Sir.”

    Angel and the Assassin
    137

    Sir looked down at him. “I didn‟t say I‟d comply with everything you want, but
    I‟m interested to know.”
    Desperate to please but determined to be honest, Angel said, “I don‟t want
    another enema, Sir, unless it pleases you.”
    Sir nodded gravely. “All right, no enema, at least not today. But I like giving
    enemas. It humbles a boy like nothing else. Makes him feel helpless and vulnerable.
    Follow me.”
    Sir strode across the room to the metal shelves along the wall and took down a
    rubber ball gag with a leather head strap. Angel licked his dry lips, both excited and
    nervous. There was no question that he liked to be restrained, bound, and helpless,
    but with each new experience he feared he might not be up to the challenge.
    “Sir, the ball part looks like a baby‟s binky.”
    “Binky? Like a baby‟s soother? Yes, I like this kind. The usual type of ball gag
    keeps the slave‟s mouth open, and they tend to drool, which I find very unappealing.
    This one allows you to close your lips around the stem, but it also presses the
    tongue down so you can‟t speak very well. Open your mouth.”
    Tilting his chin up, Angel opened his mouth, allowing Sir to insert the
    mouthpiece. He clamped his lips down over the stem and stood quietly getting used
    to the smooth feel and taste of the neoprene while Sir fastened the strap around the
    back of his head and buckled it tightly. Angel attempted to say, “Thank you, Sir,”
    but it came out muffled and strange.
    “Turn around,” Sir ordered.
    Angel obeyed at once, expecting Sir to restrain his hands, but instead Sir