Read Online Angel and the Assassin by Fyn Alexander - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Fyn Alexander
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and not needy or complaining. “I can wait, Sir. Like you said, cum has lots of protein. Are you going to spank me, Sir?”
3“Is that what you want?”
“Oh God, yes!” His response was so instant and heartfelt that Sir laughed.
“I‟ll spank you when I‟m ready, boy. It‟s my choice, not yours.”
Sir stood up, forcing Angel to stand up with him. He was confused when Sir took him by the arm and walked him over to the toilet. “I don‟t need to go again, Sir.”
Sir did not speak, but set to work attaching a metal hose with a long, sleek, shiny steel nozzle to the tap and testing the warmth of the water and the strength of the flow. “Down on your hands and knees.”
Angel dropped to the floor at once, not wanting to be disciplined but nervous of what was coming. Watching over his shoulder, he saw Sir lubricate the nozzle with petroleum jelly “Is that an enema hose, Sir?”
Sir met his eyes. “It certainly is. Any objections?”
Actually he had lots. His fantasies had never included enemas. It took him several seconds to respond. “No, Sir.”
“Good. Eyes on the floor.” Angel obeyed and waited.
The feel of the cold, smooth nozzle sliding up his rectum made him suck in a breath. His cock rose up stiffer. When the water began to flow, warm and gentle, he dropped his head, suddenly overcome with weakness. His muscles felt like jelly, and he moaned from his open mouth.
“I want you nice and clean when I fist you,” Sir said as though he were talking about something quite mundane. “I enjoy fisting. It‟s very intimate.”
Suddenly unable to support his weight, Angel slid down flat on the floor, stretching his legs out and resting his head on one arm, forcing Sir to bend lower to keep the nozzle in place. He felt weak and helpless and waited to be disciplined. Sir said nothing but continued flooding warm water into his bowel. A sudden cramp ripped through Angel‟s gut, and he cried out.
“Are you cramping, boy?”
The concern in Sir‟s voice brought tears to his eyes. He moaned louder.
Sir pulled the nozzle out, picked Angel up from the floor as easily as if he were a rag doll, and sat him on the toilet. “Let it all go, boy.”
Angel‟s bowels opened. “Sir,” he moaned, his arms wrapped around his belly.
Horrified to find himself in this humiliating position with all it entailed, he looked up at Sir, his cheeks scarlet. A tear ran down his face.
Sir reached out to wipe away the tear with the pad of his thumb. “Don‟t be upset, boy; you‟re doing really well.”
“Am I, Sir?” Angel asked, anxious for approval.
“Yes, really well. When you‟re done, get in the shower.” Angel watched Sir walk away, the muscles in his buttocks moving under his tight skin, marveling at how handsome and masculine he was. He had spent the last couple of years dreaming about a leather daddy, never suspecting that one so damn hot would walk into his life in such a strange way. It was like a dream.
When his bowels were empty, he flushed the toilet, stepped quickly into the shower, and soaped his backside with great care. Sir valued cleanliness; he knew that already. He stepped out and dried himself off.
Angel‟s silvery eyes had never tolerated light very well, and he was relieved when Sir turned the lights lower. The bright-enough-for-surgery atmosphere mellowed into a cocoon of sensual possibility. Between the hot shower and the subdued lighting Angel began to feel at peace and ready to face anything Sir chose to do.
Sir walked over to the leather sling, beckoning him with one finger. “Come on, boy; don‟t dawdle.” Angel hurried toward him. Sir scooped him up in his arms and dumped him in the sling. Utterly content with all of Sir‟s attention focused on him, Angel shifted his body about until he was comfortable.
“Do you know what a safe word is?”
“No, Sir.”
“It‟s a word you use only when you have had as much as you can take and you know you cannot take any more. I
3“Is that what you want?”
“Oh God, yes!” His response was so instant and heartfelt that Sir laughed.
“I‟ll spank you when I‟m ready, boy. It‟s my choice, not yours.”
Sir stood up, forcing Angel to stand up with him. He was confused when Sir took him by the arm and walked him over to the toilet. “I don‟t need to go again, Sir.”
Sir did not speak, but set to work attaching a metal hose with a long, sleek, shiny steel nozzle to the tap and testing the warmth of the water and the strength of the flow. “Down on your hands and knees.”
Angel dropped to the floor at once, not wanting to be disciplined but nervous of what was coming. Watching over his shoulder, he saw Sir lubricate the nozzle with petroleum jelly “Is that an enema hose, Sir?”
Sir met his eyes. “It certainly is. Any objections?”
Actually he had lots. His fantasies had never included enemas. It took him several seconds to respond. “No, Sir.”
“Good. Eyes on the floor.” Angel obeyed and waited.
The feel of the cold, smooth nozzle sliding up his rectum made him suck in a breath. His cock rose up stiffer. When the water began to flow, warm and gentle, he dropped his head, suddenly overcome with weakness. His muscles felt like jelly, and he moaned from his open mouth.
“I want you nice and clean when I fist you,” Sir said as though he were talking about something quite mundane. “I enjoy fisting. It‟s very intimate.”
Suddenly unable to support his weight, Angel slid down flat on the floor, stretching his legs out and resting his head on one arm, forcing Sir to bend lower to keep the nozzle in place. He felt weak and helpless and waited to be disciplined. Sir said nothing but continued flooding warm water into his bowel. A sudden cramp ripped through Angel‟s gut, and he cried out.
“Are you cramping, boy?”
The concern in Sir‟s voice brought tears to his eyes. He moaned louder.
Sir pulled the nozzle out, picked Angel up from the floor as easily as if he were a rag doll, and sat him on the toilet. “Let it all go, boy.”
Angel‟s bowels opened. “Sir,” he moaned, his arms wrapped around his belly.
Horrified to find himself in this humiliating position with all it entailed, he looked up at Sir, his cheeks scarlet. A tear ran down his face.
Sir reached out to wipe away the tear with the pad of his thumb. “Don‟t be upset, boy; you‟re doing really well.”
“Am I, Sir?” Angel asked, anxious for approval.
“Yes, really well. When you‟re done, get in the shower.” Angel watched Sir walk away, the muscles in his buttocks moving under his tight skin, marveling at how handsome and masculine he was. He had spent the last couple of years dreaming about a leather daddy, never suspecting that one so damn hot would walk into his life in such a strange way. It was like a dream.
When his bowels were empty, he flushed the toilet, stepped quickly into the shower, and soaped his backside with great care. Sir valued cleanliness; he knew that already. He stepped out and dried himself off.
Angel‟s silvery eyes had never tolerated light very well, and he was relieved when Sir turned the lights lower. The bright-enough-for-surgery atmosphere mellowed into a cocoon of sensual possibility. Between the hot shower and the subdued lighting Angel began to feel at peace and ready to face anything Sir chose to do.
Sir walked over to the leather sling, beckoning him with one finger. “Come on, boy; don‟t dawdle.” Angel hurried toward him. Sir scooped him up in his arms and dumped him in the sling. Utterly content with all of Sir‟s attention focused on him, Angel shifted his body about until he was comfortable.
“Do you know what a safe word is?”
“No, Sir.”
“It‟s a word you use only when you have had as much as you can take and you know you cannot take any more. I
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