Angel and the Assassin

metal cock ring was a challenge. He shifted his body about to
    find the most comfortable position.
    Sir returned with a blanket and a bottle of something. “This is arnica gel. It
    will help your muscles recover.” Master shook the warm, soft blanket over Angel‟s
    legs and ass. A squirting sound followed, and the feel of the cool gel and Sir‟s big,
    strong hands massaging his muscles was so comforting Angel felt every bit of pain
    leave his body and travel upward through Sir‟s hands and arms. “You‟ll be sore
    tomorrow but maybe not so bad as some slaves because you didn‟t hold yourself
    tense.”
    “Did I do good, Sir?” He craved words of approval and acceptance.
    “Yes, boy, you did good.” Master squirted more gel and continued to massage
    the muscles of Angel‟s back from his shoulders to his backside. “If you are stiff
    tomorrow, I‟ll give you another rub. I like my slaves happy. I want them coming
    back for more.”
    Slaves? “Do you have other slaves, Sir?”
    “I take care of other boys I meet at bars, but no permanent slaves, no. There
    are a few I‟ve seen more than once. No matter how much Conran thinks he hates
    me right now, he‟ll be back. I‟m addictive.” He laughed.
    You’ve got me hooked.
    “Sir, this cock ring is deeply cool, but it kind of hurts my dick now that I‟m
    lying down, because it‟s making it stick out against the table.”
    He heard Master‟s warm, quiet laugh. “Stick your arse up.” Angel obeyed,
    keeping his shoulders on the table but raising his backside in the air. Master pulled
    the butt ball out and removed the cock ring quickly.
    He put the cock ring in the sink and returned with a small hand towel, which
    he spread under Angel‟s groin, then pulled on a latex glove. Angel looked over his
    shoulder to see Sir squirting lubricant onto the fingers of the glove. He slipped his
    fingers between Angel‟s buttocks and began to rub a circle round his anus with the
    tip of his forefinger.
    Angel began to moan at once as pleasure shot through his thighs and buttocks.
    He pressed his forehead into the leather table. The smell brought back his first time
    in the dungeon with the hood on his head. “Oh God!” he moaned. The circular
    motion was punctuated by the finger slipping inside his anus and out quickly to
    resume the circle. Sir‟s other hand rested on his tailbone. His legs felt as if they
    were melting, and his breathing became labored. Master slid one finger all the way
    in, feeling around. “There it is.”
    Angel gripped the sides of the table, moaning loudly. A sudden rush of
    pleasure took over his body. “Oh my fucking God, what are you doing to me, Sir?”

    Angel and the Assassin
    143

    “That‟s your prostate gland. It feels very healthy.” Angel could hear a smile in
    Master‟s voice. “You can come anytime you want, boy.”
    With a firm motion Sir began to massage the prostate with his finger in a
    back-and-forth motion, working his way methodically over the walnut-sized gland
    from the top to the bottom and back up again repeatedly. Angel stretched his head
    up, arching his back. The sensation was more intense and deep-rooted than
    anything he had ever experienced. His entire body was consumed with a radiating
    pleasure that tore through his insides, emanating from his rectum. He let out a
    high-pitched scream and felt his sperm flood out and onto the towel.
    His rigid body softened, and he collapsed onto the table, moaning softly. Every
    part of his body radiated pleasure. He was on fire. He was in love. His love would
    never be realized. He wanted to sob.
    Master slipped his finger out and patted Angel‟s buttocks before covering him
    warmly with the blanket all the way up to his neck. “Rest for a while now, boy.”

    * * *
    Kael dressed quickly in dark jeans and a black round-neck sweater. He pulled

    on his socks and laced up the black leather shoes he walked softly in, in case he had
    to go directly into a kill situation. In the dungeon he found Angel asleep on the
    leather-topped table. With a gentle hand on his welted shoulders, he shook the boy
    awake. “Angel, wake up.”
    Angel‟s eyes fluttered open. “I‟m awake, Sir.” He sounded groggy.
    “Get up.”
    Angel rose at once, looking at him. “Are we going out, Sir?”
    “I have to meet someone. You are staying here. In fact I‟ve decided to lock you
    up, not because I don‟t trust you.” Though I don’t . “Take your pick. The dog crate or
    the