Reckoning

Chapter 2-2

Kael decided not to admonish him this time. He merely looked at him through narrowed eyes, and it was enough. The smile fell at once from Angel’s face, and he lowered his gaze again, knowing he had done wrong by speaking. Kael fetched a set of ankle cuffs. He secured Angel’s ankles to the chains above his shoulders, placing him in an uncomfortable and awkward position. The boy’s hands were still free, and he looked at Kael through his spread thighs, his expression telling Kael that this was nothing out of the ordinary.

He was right, this wasn’t, but it would soon get very difficult for him.

Deftly, Kael unfastened his jeans and shoved them down to his thighs, allowing his thick, hard c**k to spring free. He took the condom from the foil packet and rolled it onto his c**k. With his long, powerful legs, he straddled the sling to position his c**k at Angel’s anus. Using only the lubrication on the condom, which wasn’t much, he thrust hard inside Angel’s arsehole, deciding not to control his pleasure in order to make it last. In no more than three or four vicious thrusts, his orgasm rushed through his thighs and buttocks, culminating in his c**k as he rammed harder and harder into his boy’s arse. From the pained look on Angel’s face, the boy’s mouth wide open and his eyes shut against the pain and discomfort of the f**k in such an awkward position, it was obvious Angel was not enjoying the moment, which was fine by Kael. A sub did not always have to take his pleasure. Sometimes denying fulfillment was a bigger turn-on than a climax.

As the last dregs of his orgasm faded away, Kael pulled out and stood panting, looking down at Angel. Now that the pain of the unlubricated f**k was over and Angel’s body had moved into a more comfortable position, he looked up at his Master, face pink with exertion.

Sated, Kael could now move on to the test, but still he wondered if he could go through with it. If he could force his beautiful boy into a situation that would make Angel so afraid.

Mindful of the time, Kael released Angel’s ankles from the cuffs, allowing him to lower his legs until he lay relaxed and comfortable in the sling. He watched Kael, confusion creeping over his face again. Kael had chosen a limited time frame for this on purpose to reduce the stress on Angel.

He grabbed the boy’s hands now and pulled him to his feet; then, sliding his finger through the O-ring again, he forced Angel toward the St. Andrew’s cross. When the boy faced the cross as he had done many times for floggings, Kael ordered, “Turn around. I want your back to the cross.”

Without watching him, but knowing Angel had obeyed, Kael strode to the shelves where he kept the restraints, returning with a set of wrist cuffs and a wide leather belt. Angel smiled at the belt. He thinks I’m going to flog him with it. But after securing Angel’s ankles and wrists to the cross, Kael fastened the belt around Angel’s waist and the middle of the saltire, securing the boy very firmly in place.

He’s going to panic and try to move. The more tightly he’s held in place, the less likely he is to hurt himself.

Ready at last to test his boy, Kael strode over to the selection of hoods and stood perusing them, knowing that Angel was watching him, knowing that his sweet boy’s heart was beginning to thud and that the blood would be rising to his already pink cheeks as his stomach muscles tightened with adrenaline. Angel was terrified of hoods.

The problem was, an MI6 agent could not be terrified of anything. He or she must be able to face whatever was thrown at them. Life in the intelligence services was unpredictable, and Angel needed to understand that. Fear was a killer.

Knowing all along which hood he intended to use, Kael lifted it now off the fake head and walked toward Angel. The boy’s wide-eyed gaze went back and forth between Kael’s eyes and the hood. Realizing at last what his Master intended, the boy began to shake his head.

The skillfully constructed leather hood was a simple design. In the past when he’d worked on other subs, Kael had enjoyed using hoods with zips and removable mouth and eye pieces that could be put in place or taken off when he desired, to train his underlings in obedience and sensory deprivation. But this evening he wanted a hood that was simple and fast to put in place and remove. It also had two very small breathing holes strengthened by grommets, which might make Angel feel a little less panicked, and a buckle to lock the hood in place at the back of the neck.

The steel collar would not hinder the hood because Kael did not intend to fasten the neck buckle, knowing it would be too much for Angel to manage.

“Master, please, no,” Angel said, his voice near a whisper.

For a split second Kael wondered if he should deliver a short lecture on consent, reminding Angel of the conversation they’d had at the door, or proceed, only speaking to coach the boy through the experience.

Without a word he unzipped the back of the hood and—acutely sensitive to Angel’s fear—began to fit the hood over his boy’s face.

Angel jerked his head back and turned his face. “No! I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want this. Sir, stop. Please!”

Holding the hood in one hand, Kael grabbed Angel’s delicate, pointed chin in the other, holding his face still. “Look at me, slave.” He used a harsh tone to get Angel’s attention.

His breath coming fast and shallow, Angel met his gaze, pleading with his eyes.

In a loud, even tone, Kael said, “You’re hyperventilating, which will make you dizzy and increase the feelings of panic. Take long, slow breaths.”

But Angel couldn’t focus. His gaze darted everywhere as if looking for a means of escape. The boy’s emotions were out of control.

“Look at me, slave.” When Angel continued to look about him, panting, Kael slapped the boy hard on his right thigh. The sudden pain brought Angel’s gaze back to Kael. “Good boy. Slow your breathing. A long breath in.” To Kael’s relief, Angel obeyed. “Now out. In again…and out,” he said, certain to keep his tone neutral. If he softened it for a moment, Angel might think he would relent and let him off the hook and then the boy would have learned nothing. He might also begin to cry. Whenever Angel was scared or ashamed of a stupid act or remorseful for something he had done, he wept the moment Kael softened his tone and offered him comfort.

“I’m going to put the hood on you now. It’s easiest to fit it over the face first and then pull it tight toward the back of your head. It zips down the back and then it buckles around the neck. I’m not going to buckle it so I can remove it quickly when I choose, but I am going to zip it closed.”

“Daddy, I don’t want to.” He was back to Daddy again, no longer saying Master to show what a good and obedient sub he was. Angel was scared, and he wanted Kael to be the protective yet firm Daddy again. “I don’t want to,” he repeated, his voice shaky.

In all his years of training subs, of punishing and restraining the men he met in bars, Kael had never, once they had agreed on a scene and he’d gained their full consent, changed the scene because a sub was afraid or regretful. As long as the man was sober and in full charge of his faculties, Kael went ahead with whatever they had agreed to prior to entering the dungeon. But he had never loved any of them. He had never had any feelings at all toward most of them. Not even a moment of tenderness or pity. It was a disinterested agreement, nothing more.

Angel was different. Angel was his beautiful boy, his sweetheart, the man he loved above all else. Knowing Angel as well as he did, Kael knew his boy’s fear was controlling him right now, and he knew also that Angel would regret it profoundly if Kael unfastened the cuffs and let him walk out of the dungeon. In the long run it was best for Angel that Kael should proceed.

“You gave consent,” Kael said, betraying no concern in his tone, only determination.

“I withdraw it,” Angel said, his voice rising several octaves.

“You gave consent,” Kael repeated louder still. He spread the hood open and then pressed it over Angel’s face. “There are small air-holes, and even without them you can breathe. I’ve worn hoods myself so I know you can breathe even with the entire face closely covered, but you must breathe consciously and slowly.”

Angel snapped his head back, making the mask slip. A slight anger bubbled up from Kael’s belly. He hated disobedience. With one hand he cupped the back of Angel’s head to hold it steady and pressed the mask over his face again. “Breathe,” he said loudly.

“Daddy, nooooo!” Angel screamed.

Motivated now by the determination to show his boy that he was in control and equally by the determination to show Angel that he was a capable and strong boy who could do anything, he took the pull tab of the zip and drew it down, closing the hood over Angel’s head. Kael placed his hand on Angel’s smooth, hairless chest and felt the thumping of his boy’s heart. Concerned that Angel would pass out, he opened the zip again a couple of inches to peel the bottom of the hood up to expose Angel’s mouth. “Breathe.”

With his mouth open wide, Angel gasped as if he were drowning.

“Calm yourself, slave. Master is in control. You will never be in danger while I am here.”

It took a full five minutes for Angel to quiet his breathing and come back to himself.

“Are you here with me, Angel?” Kael asked. He used his boy’s name deliberately to let him know that the protective Daddy was still there with the powerful Master, and that one would moderate the other.

“Yes, Sir. But I feel like I’m going to die. I feel like I can’t breathe. I’ve had enough for today.”

“You’ve had enough when I say so. I’m going to lower the hood back down over your mouth, but I won’t completely close the zip.” With no further protests from Angel, he rolled the soft leather back down over Angel’s mouth and chin. The hood was form fitted and looked beautiful when fully fastened in place. Right now it was still loose because the zip was drawn only halfway down the back of Angel’s head.

“Are you breathing slowly?” Kael asked.

A muffled, “Yes, Sir,” reassured him.

“Good. I’m going to pull the zip all the way down now, but I won’t buckle the collar.”

Once again, gripped by fear and panic, Angel began to shake his head violently in an attempt to dislodge the hood. Kael pressed his finger over the pulse in Angel’s wrist to find it racing. “Damn!” he muttered and peeled the hood up again to free Angel’s mouth. “Breathe in and out, slowly; follow my breaths.”

When at last Angel breathed in unison with him, Kael said, “Let’s try again.” Gently he tugged on the zip, pulling it down very slowly. As he did so, the hood molded to Angel’s face, taking on his boy’s shape and beauty. Angel’s arm and leg muscles tensed, and he shook his head several times. Kael did not speak, but he kept both hands on Angel’s body to retain contact with him, watching for the tension to drop from the boy’s muscles.