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slightly apart, and dropped his chin while keeping his eyes on Kael‟s
    face. The other boy also stood up straight, hands at his sides, but not like a slave. It
    was the respectful posture that a boy who had attended an expensive school would
    use to a schoolmaster, just as Kael had when he was a boy.
    “Daddy…” Angel began and then faltered.
    “The slave is in charge? The master does as he‟s told?” Kael circled them.
    “What‟s your name, boy?” He already knew—Angel had told him all about Jack—
    but he was going to show them exactly who was in charge.
    Terrified yet excited, the boy looked up into Kael‟s face. His color had returned,
    and two pink spots bloomed on his cheeks. “Jack McCarron.” The laughter and
    bravado were gone.
    “Say „Sir,‟” Angel said quickly.
    “Sir,” Jack repeated.
    “Jack, you said you wanted me to throw you over the leather horse and fuck
    you silly. I‟d be happy to oblige. Are you ready now?” Kael looked sideways at Angel
    and saw the look of shock on his face. He’s jealous. That’ll teach him.
    “That was before I knew how big you were.” Jack looked Kael up and down, his
    eyes resting momentarily on Kael‟s crotch. “Anyway, I was just kidding, Sir.” Jack‟s
    voice sounded thin and high. He was growing frightened.
    “Were you indeed? What if I‟m not kidding?”
    Jack swallowed hard. “I apologize, Mr. Saunders.” He glanced at the door.
    “May I leave, Sir?”
    “I think you‟d better. You‟re way out of your league here. Go and play with the
    little kids. This lifestyle is for mature boys. I eat boys like you for breakfast.”
    Without another word, Jack hurried from the room.
    When Kael heard the front door slam, he looked at Angel.
    “Daddy,” Angel began. “I‟m sorry.”
    “Don‟t speak. Drop your pants,” Kael said. The only response to this kind of
    disrespect was swift discipline. He walked quickly to the wall where the whips and
    paddles hung on hooks, lined up, ready for use. He chose a red leather paddle, thick
    and beautifully constructed. When he looked again, Angel was watching him, his
    trousers and red bikini underpants down around his knees. His hands gripped his
    cock as though he was shy, but when Kael met his eyes, he put his hands behind his
    back again.
    “Since you and your little friend were so keen on the horse, you can get over it
    now.”
    From the long sigh that escaped Angel‟s lips and the sudden sagging of his
    shoulders, the boy knew what was coming. He walked slowly to the leather horse
    and bent over it. Kael came round behind him. “Stretch your arms out to the sides
    and put them flat on the horse.”
    Angel obeyed and waited, his buttocks squeezed tight together.

    Angel and the Assassin: Be Brave

    23

    “Who is in charge, boy, the master or the slave?”
    “The master is in charge, Sir,” Angel said.
    “That‟s right. In this dungeon, the master is in charge; the slave minds his
    manners. And this is what happens when slaves are disrespectful.”
    Kael raised the paddle and landed a powerful swat across Angel‟s buttocks,
    raising a welt instantly. Tensed against the pain and with no warm-up, it would
    hurt like hell. Angel cried out. Ignoring him, Kael followed it with two more
    perfectly placed heavy blows before returning the paddle to its hook. Angel
    remained exactly where he was. He knew better than to move without permission.
    But Kael doubted he could have moved anyway just then. The blows had been very
    hard. They were a punishment, not for pleasure.
    “Pull your pants up,” Kael said. He left Angel to recover and went to the
    bedroom. From the wardrobe, he took a pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt and
    changed before going barefoot to the kitchen. A couple of minutes later, Angel
    followed him into the kitchen, his cheeks flaming, his head hanging. “Sir, I‟m sorry.
    I was showing off.”
    “I know.” Kael opened the fridge. “You took a picture of me and showed