Angel and the Assassin

and thumbs took Angel by the nipples and
    pinched hard. Streaks of pain shot through his chest. “Oww!”
    Daddy laughed, a deep, indulgent laugh. “Brave boy. Follow me.”
    Angel reached out his hand, expecting Daddy to take it and lead him, but he
    did not; he walked away. In a moment of confusion Angel stood still, waiting for
    help. When none came, he focused his hearing, sniffed the air, and turned sharply
    to his left. Ten paces and he stopped, reached out a hand, and felt the hard wall of
    Daddy‟s chest. A little high-pitched laugh escaped him. “I found you.”
    The words “clever boy” said with such deep admiration made his heart soar.
    “Come with me.”
    Erect, proud, Angel followed closely on Daddy‟s heels, paying careful attention
    to the heat emanating from Daddy‟s body and the movement of air around them to
    know he followed closely.
    “The torture chair.” Daddy‟s hands on his waist guided him between the leg
    rests, lifting him so that he could position his buttocks on the seat. With relief he
    rested back comfortably against the leather. “Lift your legs, boy.”
    Angel positioned his legs wide on the leg rests. Daddy fastened the buckles
    around his ankles, securing them in place. Another belt tightened around his waist.
    Standing to the side, Daddy fastened his wrists above his head to the steel ring
    attached to the top of the backrest. Spread-eagled, vulnerable, and excited, Angel‟s
    breath came in short, sharp bursts.
    “Are you frightened, Angel?”
    “No, Daddy, I trust you.”
    “Good boy. You can ask questions if you want to, talk to me.”
    The smell of alcohol permeated the air unexpectedly. It was not booze but the
    kind used to clean things with. A cold, damp pad pressed against his left nipple,
    rubbing roughly, then the right. The strong fingers and thumbs of both Daddy‟s
    hands pinched hard at both tiny pink nipples at once, pulling them until Angel
    moaned.
    “Do not try to move, do you hear me, boy?”
    “Yes, Sir, Daddy.”
    “This is going to hurt, so I want you to be brave.”
    At first Angel felt only a bright, sharp pain flash through his left nipple as it
    was pinched and pulled extremely hard by something metallic. “This is a forceps
    squeezing your tit,” Daddy said.

    190
    Fyn Alexander

    “That hurts.” Angel‟s voice was breathy.
    The pain that came next made him moan from deep in his belly. It filled his
    head with bright light and made his bowels feel watery. A screaming, hot pain tore
    through his nipple. “Daddy, I think I‟m going to shit.”
    “No, you‟re not, sweetheart.” The gentleness of his voice together with the
    endearment softened the pain and allowed Angel to accept what was happening and
    ride it out until all that was left was a hot throbbing sensation in his left nipple
    radiating out across his left pectoral. He breathed through the pain, blowing air
    hard between pursed lips.
    “That wasn‟t so bad, was it?”
    “No, Sir.”
    “Do you know what I did, Angel?”
    “No, Daddy.”
    “I pierced your nipple and put a bar stud through it. Now I‟m going to do the
    other one.”
    “Oh my God,” Angel whispered. Unable to see, he had no idea what had
    happened. All his senses had become focused on the light in his head and the sharp
    edges of the pain. Nothing differentiated; it was all one.
    Knowing now what was coming, his body melted into the leather seat, neither
    moving nor wanting to move as the procedure was repeated. Again he breathed
    through the intense, thick, pinching pain of the forceps pulling his nipple, followed
    by the screaming, white light pain of the bar stud being forced through the tender
    flesh. But the pain was not nearly as strong as the first time. It was almost
    disappointing. “Why didn‟t the second one hurt so much, Daddy?”
    “Your body had already learned the feel of it. Our bodies are very clever that
    way.”
    The heady, harsh smell of alcohol filled Angel‟s nostrils again, and he
    tightened his stomach muscles as he waited for Daddy to wipe his tender nipples
    with it. Pain shot through his pectorals again when the alcohol pad was rubbed over
    each piercing in turn.
    “Breathe through it, boy. The pain will subside after a while. It will be very
    sore for the next few days. Have you got control of your bowels?”
    “Yes, Sir, I‟m okay.”
    “I‟m going to release you.”
    One by one Daddy loosened the straps holding Angel to the chair and helped
    him stand. He