Angel and the Assassin (19 page)

“Strip,” Kael ordered.

Conran didn‟t move.

“There is one rule in my dungeon. Obey me or leave. Take your pick.”

“I don‟t want to leave,” Conran said.

“This room is soundproofed. Speak loudly at all times. Now, I‟m going to lock the door, and once it is locked, you are at my disposal until I free you. Fuck safe words. Fuck pussy-arsed refusals. You get one opportunity to leave, and that is right now. Are you staying or leaving?”

“I‟m staying.”

“Call me Sir.”

“I‟m staying, Sir.”

Kael smiled. “And wouldn‟t you like to thank me for having you here?”

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir.” Conran got slowly to his knees. Tentatively, his lips touched Kael‟s right foot and then the left. He was panting hard as he pressed his cheek against Kael‟s feet and began to kiss and lick his way around them, crawling with his buttocks in the air and his shoulders on the ground.

Kael indulged him for a few minutes, then strode across the room and 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.”

9With 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 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 was capable of.

Kael strode back to the shelves. He chose a leather cock ring for comfort.

Deliberately keeping his tone kindly, he said, “This will help you behave yourself, Stephen.” He slid the cock ring up the shaft and over the ball sac until it pressed snugly against his body. “I want you to behave yourself so I don‟t have to punish you. I want you to enjoy yourself in my dungeon.”

Tears sprang into Conran‟s eyes, and his chin quivered. “Thank you, Sir.”

Kael placed his hand tenderly against Conran‟s cheek. “You‟re welcome, boy.”

Conran‟s chest heaved with suppressed sobs, but he did not break his posture.

Continuing the ritual, Kael brought a rubber butt plug and another, shorter, steel spreader bar and a long plain bar. When everything was laid out side by side, he stood looking at it. One look at Conran showed him staring wide-eyed at the table, his breath short.

Lastly, Kael looked over at where the hoods were on display. “Oh God,” Conran muttered, following his gaze.

“Do they frighten you, Stephen?” Kael asked very gently, knowing his concern would bond the other man to him in gratitude even more deeply.

9“Yes, Sir.” He swallowed hard, his eyes darting everywhere.

Kael walked toward the hoods as if he planned to choose one, but he had no intention of wasting time persuading him as he had done with Angel when a blindfold would do just as well. It was less frightening and would still render Conran sightless. He took a thick leather one and put it behind his back as he walked toward Conran.

Afraid, Conran began to move his hands.

“Don‟t!” Kael came to a stop in front of him. “Don‟t move your hands, boy. Don‟t try my patience.”

“I‟m sorry, Sir.”

From behind his back Kael produced the blindfold. “Look. How scary can this be?” The relief on Conran‟s face was pitiful. He actually laughed with relief. Kael walked behind him and fitted the blindfold. The smell of soft leather filled his nostrils. “Smell that? There‟s nothing so exciting as the smell of soft, expensive leather.”

Like a little mouse or rabbit, Conran‟s nose twitched as he inhaled the erotic scent. “Yes, Sir.”

Kael pulled the buckle very tight, fitting the blindfold perfectly against Conran‟s eyeballs, blocking out every last bit of light and making it impossible to remove. “There we are,” Kael said.

Now was the moment to make him helpless.

“On your knees, boy.”

Conran obeyed at once, dropping to his knees, placing his hands on the floor.

Swiftly, Kael went to work fitting the spreader bar between Conran‟s ankles and attaching the cuffs until his feet were set well apart and fixed in place.

Walking round to the front, Kael took the shorter spreader bar, fixing the cuffs to Conran‟s wrists. His hands were fixed twelve inches apart, but he could still lift his hands to remove the blindfold, which must not happen. Conran must have no control at all. Kael took the long steel bar, which he slid under Conran‟s body, fixing one end to the middle of the wrist spreader bar and the other to the middle of the ankle bar, rendering him completely unable to rise. As an afterthought he fetched a pair of leather bondage mitts and fitted them over Conran‟s hands, fastening them tightly around his wrists.

Standing up, he admired his handiwork. “Excellent! Now I‟m ready to play with you.”

The room was soundproofed for a reason. No one in the building must know what went on in his dungeon. But despite that, there was someone outside the door.

Kael just knew it; he could sense it. It could only be Angel, but the boy was definitely standing outside.

Making no sound, Kael walked quickly to the door and unlocked it. Several months of his training with MI6 had involved entering and leaving buildings as 100

though he were invisible. Conran had no idea he was being left alone as Kael stepped outside the room, closing the door silently behind him.

“What are you doing here?” He spoke in a very low voice. “I told you to stay in bed.”

“I miss you, Daddy,” Angel said, his head on one side. Kael took Angel‟s head in both hands and pulled it toward him to kiss his forehead. “Is there a man in there, Daddy?”

Kael blew out a long breath as he came to a decision. “Yes. Do you want to watch?”

A grin lit Angel‟s face. “Yes!” He sobered quickly. “Yes 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.”

10“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.”