Angel and the Assassin (20 page)

“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 hold it by.

When he had first bought it, he had ordered a sub to paddle him with it to give him a sense of its power. The pain had reverberated through his buttocks and on through his torso, creating tremors that lasted long after each stroke. It was magnificent.

“Tell me how you‟re feeling, Stephen.”

“Grateful, Sir.” He could barely speak between exertion and excitement.

“Grateful that you have seen fit to take control of me and to flog me, Sir.”

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“Excellent,” Kael said. He looked at Angel and pointed at the low rimming stool he had used to teach Angel to suck his cock. The boy tiptoed over to pick it up and brought it to Kael.

Conran began to move his head, attempting to hear better. “Sir, is there someone here?”

“Do you want there to be?”

“No, Sir!”

“There‟s no one here, boy, no one but you and me and all your hopes and fears.”

Kael positioned the stool and sat down, his thighs wide, his crotch very close to Conran‟s face. Conran leaned forward to sniff him. He began to reach out with his lips, searching for the cock like an animal searches for its mother‟s nipple. Kael lifted his hard cock and rubbed the tip over Conran‟s cheeks and mouth. Conran opened his mouth, searching the air, trying to grab it with his lips. Kael rubbed his soft hair. “You‟re an anxious boy. I like that. Anxious to please me.”

“I want to please you, Sir. Direct me on how to please you.” Conran‟s upper-class accent was far less annoying when he was on his knees in restraints.

“Take my cock in your mouth, boy.”

Conran leaned forward as if a great thirst was upon him and Kael‟s cock spouted the waters of life. Gasping from deep in his throat, he reached as far forward as he could, given the limitations of his restraints, and Kael kept his thick cock just barely out of reach so that Conran could grasp just the tip between his lips. His frustration was evident as he lunged, trying to draw a greater measure into his mouth. After more than a minute, he cried, “Please, Sir!”

“Of course.”

Kael‟s tone was so filled with kindness and the gentleness of his hand as it cupped Conran‟s head was so encouraging, that he was unsurprised when a tear trickled from behind the tight leather blindfold. Kael inched forward on the stool, pushing his cock into Conran‟s mouth until he could feel the sensitive tip touch the hot, parched throat. Conran grasped it as if it were a lifeline.

“I know your mouth is dry, Stephen. You can drink my fluids.” The precum leaking from the tip lubricated the parched mouth, and Conran began to suck in earnest, moaning as he did so. Kael held his head, his own pleasure rising in thick streaks up his belly and down his thighs. He could come ten times in an hour and still get an erection, but he decided to delay his own gratification and after only a few minutes drew his cock out while pushing Conran‟s head back.

“Please, Sir,” Conran moaned as plaintively as Oliver Twist.

Kael laughed and tousled his hair. “That‟s my boy.” He looked over at Angel, wondering what his reaction would be to seeing him in complete control of a willing sub.

Angel‟s erection was gone, his penis contracting back until he looked like a cherub in a church painting, except that he was so slender. The look on his face was 10almost comical. His brow had furrowed, and his mouth twisted into a two-year-old‟s pout. Gesturing wildly at himself, he mouthed,
I’m your boy.

Kael stood up, his face took on a warning, and he extended one finger at Angel, shaking his head. The boy immediately dropped his chin in submission.

Kael picked up the paddle and looked down at Conran. “Now, Stephen, I am going to paddle you. I have a fine leather paddle in my hand, and I am going to apply it to your arse until your buttocks turn red and you start screaming.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” Conran said loudly.

“You may move around if you want, though you will find it difficult, as you already know.”

Conran‟s breathing became hard and fast in anticipation. An almost supernatural stillness settled over him. Kael stood behind him to look between Conran‟s thighs. His ball sac hung, blood filled and swollen. His perineum was scarlet and inflamed. The spreader bar held his feet wide enough that his entire scrotum was exposed and vulnerable, while his buttocks remained slightly parted.

Kael closed his eyes, though the light was very subdued. He breathed deeply and steadied his feet, bracing them so that he stood rock solid on the floor to the side of Conran, where his aim at the twitching buttocks would give the most beneficial effect. He raised the paddle and landed a light slap to the buttocks, flat across the cleft and very careful not to go near the balls. The slap forced the butt plug to push in deeper and then retract. Kael landed another gentle, stinging slap of the paddle, marveling at its flexibility and strength.

“Oh God,” Conran moaned.

“There is only one God, and at this moment that is me,” Kael said firmly.

“Yes, Sir, yes, Sir,” Conran panted.

Kael landed a harder blow and another, incrementally harder still. He measured very carefully the pressure he applied, but he was relentless. He had neither the inclination nor the interest to drag this out, and he knew Conran had waited long enough and that the waiting would be far worse torture than the pain.

In under two minutes, with measured, perfectly timed strokes, he pushed Conran inexorably toward his limit, and when he reached it, Kael knew. The height of the pain was perfect, the rhythm of the blows hypnotizing. Now he was at the pinnacle of his pain threshold; Kael held him there and walloped him relentlessly.

One perfectly timed and equal blow came hot and fast upon the last, with a quarter of a second between them.

The buttocks before him were no longer Conran‟s; they simply belonged to his sub. A sub who had handed himself to Kael as a gift for Kael‟s pleasure and his own edification.

Everything around Kael disappeared; nothing mattered but the paddle, the flesh absorbing the blows, and the sound—the wonderful, satisfying sound—of leather hitting flesh. A secondary but also very pleasing sound was the labored breath and the deep-throated cries that originated in Conran‟s parched throat.

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For a split second Kael‟s eyes wandered to the halo of blond hair on the lovely boy by the door who stood transfixed by the scene playing out before him. Angel had become as immobile as a statue, truly a stone Angel in a graveyard. The low light caught his hair and pale skin in such a way that Kael swore for a fleeting moment that he had grown wings that spread wide about him. The moment of inattention made him falter in his rhythm, causing Conran to cry out at an unregulated blow that caught the skin of his ball sac.

Immediately Kael modulated his aim and began to bring the paddling to a halt. His arm slowed; the blows became lighter and further apart. At the last stroke his heavy breath and Conran‟s were perfectly synchronized as though only one man breathed.

The rush of adrenaline that flooded him when he performed a flogging began to dissipate, leaving his body tingling. His erection had deflated without orgasm, and his long, thick cock swung loose.

Tossing the paddle onto the table, Kael walked to the small fridge and took out a bottle of water. Sweat gleamed on his body, attesting to his effort and loss of fluids. He drained the bottle, tossed it in the stainless-steel bin, and took another, which he brought to Conran.

The strain of holding the difficult position for so long was taking its toll. The undeveloped muscles in Conran‟s arms and shoulders bulged. Veins pulsed in his face and neck. His lips were very dry, and he was having difficulty swallowing.

Pulling the small stool close to his head again, Kael sat down and took Conran‟s chin tenderly on his fingertips, lifting it until he could touch the bottle to his lips. “Drink, boy.”

Conran began to gulp, but since Kael had control of the bottle, he allowed the flow to come slowly to avoid Conran choking. He held the bottle until Conran drained it. “That‟s a good boy, Stephen.”

“Thank you, Sir.” The gratitude in his tone was touching. Even his most basic needs were beyond his control.

“For the flogging or the water?” Kael asked gently.

“For everything, Sir, everything.”

Kael bent his head and dropped a little kiss on Conran‟s forehead. It had the desired effect. Conran began to cry. “There now, boy, everything is good. I‟m here for you.”

For several minutes Kael patted Conran‟s back and wiped the tears that managed to escape the blindfold. “I‟m going to release you from your restraints because I can see you are in great discomfort.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“But before I do that, I think you need to have some weight added to your balls.”

Kael rose and picked up the ball stretcher and weight from the table. At Conran‟s arse, he quickly removed the cock ring. Then he grasped the ball sac in one 10hand, pulling downward to position the testicles and leave room for the stretcher.

He wrapped the leather stretcher around the skin above the balls and adjusted the snap fastener for a tight fit. “There.” He patted Conran‟s buttocks like he would a pony. They were deep red and heavily welted from the paddle. “How does that feel?”

“Good. It feels good, Sir.”

“Of course it does, Stephen. And now I‟m going to add a small weight. Are you ready?”

“Yes, please, Sir.”

His enthusiasm made Kael smile. “I‟m pleased with your behavior, boy, very pleased.”

“I only want to please you, Sir,” Conran said.

A long, deep moan rose up from Conran‟s chest and whistled out of his mouth as the weight descended, dragging his balls with it. The sac stretched with a frightening tension. Kael stroked the taut skin, tracing the seam down to the top of the leather ring.

While Conran continued to whimper with the heavy weight on his balls, Kael went to the shelves. “Do you know how soothing arnica cream is on inflamed skin?”

Conran did not answer. Kael continued, “I am going to rub some of this into your bottom. It will help you feel better.” With great care and tenderness, Kael smoothed the cream into Conran‟s buttocks. Between the welted, swollen buttocks and the ball stretcher and weight, all his attention would now be focused on his rear end.

“Tell me how it feels back here, Stephen. What are you feeling right now?”

“Sir, my backside feels blazing hot, like the flesh is boiling. My balls feel as if they are being dragged to the ground.”

“Is it good? Do you like all those sensations?”

“Yes, Sir, yes, Sir.”

“I‟m going to remove the crossbar now,” Kael told him, unfastening the hooks and sliding the bar out. “Keep your hands flat on the floor. You would be amazed how much support the crossbar has been giving you.”

Conran rocked slightly but remained where he was. With an arm around his waist, Kael drew him up to kneel awkwardly with his knees spaced far apart. “I‟m going to remove the spreader from your wrists now, Stephen; when I do, you will place your hands behind your back.” He removed the bar, and Conran obediently brought his arms around behind, stretching and bending them as he did so. Keeping a careful eye on him to ensure he made no attempt to remove the blindfold, Kael brought a pair of wrist cuffs and restrained Conran‟s hands behind his back.

“There,” he said. “Now I am going to help you to your feet.” He walked around in front of Conran and took him by the waist, lifting him easily to his feet even though he leaned all his weight on Kael. “That‟s a good boy. Let‟s see if you have your equilibrium.” He released Conran, who immediately lost his balance and stumbled forward, unable to catch himself because of the spreader bar holding his feet rigidly in position.

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Kael caught him as he tumbled forward.

“I‟ve got you. Let‟s get you over to the table.”

He spoke as though his only task in the world was to secure Conran‟s comfort and safety, and Conran‟s response was unutterable gratitude. His chest heaved as Kael stood him up and pushed his upper body forward until he rested comfortably on the leather-topped table. His feet braced on the floor, pushing his buttocks out.

Kael gripped the base of the butt plug and drew it out, leaving Conran‟s anus contracting, as if reaching out to be filled again. “That is a lovely view, Stephen.

Your red and swollen bottom, and your pink fuck hole desperate to be filled. Your scrotum is hanging nice and low, feeling the effects of the weight. It‟s only six ounces. I have weights up to a full pound. Could you handle that?”

“I don‟t know, Sir.”

“Another time.” Kael spoke kindly. “Will there be another time, do you think?”

“Yes, please, Sir.”

Kael placed his hands on Conran‟s buttocks and began to massage, drawing a piercing pain from the tender flesh and making the man whimper.

“Stephen.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Tell me what you want, boy.”

All the emotion and passion that had built up while he handed his power to Kael, offered himself as a gift, surrendered completely, poured out of him. “Sir, I want your cock up my arse. I want you to own me. I want you to possess me. Please fuck me, please, please, please, Sir.” He was crying, shaking, his chest heaving with great sobs, laying him completely open to his dominant.