Masonic Boys - Apprentice Shepard - Chapter 6 - Disciplinary Act
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I’ve always attempted so rock-hard to behave myself. My always said I was a people-pleaser, and I guess she’s not wrong. I attempt to glance smart. I attempt to be helpful. I attempt to listen and to learn. The grief is I just can’t seem to get things right. Sometimes I perceive that the tighter I try, the more likely I am to end up in trouble. To make matters worse, most of the time I just don’t know what I’ve done wrong, and it’s unlikely to learn from your mistakes if you don’t know what those mistakes are. I was informed yesterday evening that disciplinary act was required as a result of my latest behavior. No more information was given. I was simply told to report to tormentor Stone at 9pm. Of course, I spent the entire night and all of the day today worrying about what I’d done, attempting to replay every darned dialogue I’d ever had with tormentor Stone in an attempt to figure out why I’d been summoned. By the time I reached the chamber, I was a mess. tormentor Stone, unsurprisingly, said nothing. He just sat on a red tabouret in the darkened guest room and nodded me over to him, deep frustration etched all over his fantastic face. He immediately told me to remove my trousers and I did so, obediently, attempting to manage my nerves because my mitts just wouldn’t stop shaking. I stood for a moment or two, rigid with fear, as the tormentor looked up at me, assessing my punishment. Then he told me to lie via his lap. For a split second I couldn’t make myself move. I immediately realized that he was going to slap me—just like they did in the olden days. The thought of his giant mitts pelting down on my figure was appalling beyond words. I took a deep breath and tentatively moved toward his lap, somewhat clumsily lounging face down on top of it. I was immediately devoured by wafts of a beautiful odor which was coming from underneath his clothes. I was so profoundly sorry that it was tormentor Stone whom I’d let down. I have so much respect for him. It sounds crazy because the stud was about to discipline me, but there was something comforting about the prospect. He’s so tall and significant and I sensed so small and insignificant, I just wished to hold him. He ran his huge mitt over my culo cheeks. It sensed as however he were sizing me up, attempting to work out where to land his blows. My figure began to tense up as I began to imagine just how painful it was going to be. He was wearing large rings on his fingers. Would they cut into me? Make me ? I sensed his pink cigar stiffening in his trousers and starting to shove into my belly. It was clear that he was turned on by the thought of penalizing me and I was hesitant about how to process that information. He then spent what seemed like an age running his mitt over my butt and down onto my thighs. His movements sensed inquisitive, like he was somehow captivated by the form of my body. horrified as I was, I can’t refuse that the experience was also a lil' arousing, and that delectation brought with it a deep sense of shame. I heard myself extracting a series of groans, wishing all of this could be happening in different circumstances; but, simultaneously aware that it was the nature of this particular circumstance which was oddly fuelling my sexual excitement. I’ve seldom sensed so conflicted. Every time I attempted to glance up, he shoveled me back down. I longed to unzip my tie. I sensed like I was about to pass out. There was a pause. And then, thwack, his mitt made contact with my ass. It wasn’t against nude flesh. Thank God I was still in my garments. But it sent a shockwave thru my body. I don’t think it hurt. To be honest, too much adrenaline was surging thru me to be able to tell. It undoubtedly tingled afterwards. I tensed up waiting for another hit, but instead, he shoveled his mitt underneath my garbs and soothingly ran it over my naked culo cheeks. The delectation was wonderful. It immediately made me perceive safe, despite what had just happened. I stiffly restricted onto tormentor Stone’s leg, realizing that I could neither predict what was going to happen next, nor anticipate how I would react to it. He shoveled a finger rock-hard into my hole. It made me yelp; more, I suspect, out of shock, than because it hurt. At the same time, I sensed his pink cigar spasming against my tummy again. It was large—very large—and I all of a sudden found myself obsessing over the thought of it injecting me. If he wished me, he could have me. I would go after a giant of a stud like tormentor Stone to the end of the world if he asked me to. He slapped me again. Then again, tighter this time. My figure began to whirr with anticipation. He taught me to stand and to remove my shirt and tie. I jumped to my feet, immediately conforming his orders, aware, for the first-ever time, that I was rock rock-hard and tenting like crazy in my semi-see-through garments. I immediately became devoured with disgrace again. Surely I wasn’t meant to be onanism on this punishment? He would be horrified to think that it had that effect on me, right? I stood in my garmets as he glanced down at my dick. I was about to apologize, when he reached out and prodded it with his finger, stating what seemed so shittily obvious, that I was getting aroused. I told him that I was sorry. He nodded, too deep in thought to reply. Then he taught me to get back down over his lap and I did as asked. I sensed him picking something up from the floor. I didn’t dare to glance around to observe what it was, but it sensed cold as he ran it over my butt. Then he impressed me with it. It must have been made from wood. It was rock-hard and it hurt, but in a superb way. Then he shoveled my garbs down and my began to run cold. The thought of whatever he was holding striking naked flesh was one I wasn’t at all sure about. I sensed his pink cigar tenting against my tummy and then the weight of the object slamming against my butt cheek. It stung. It dazed me. But as shortly as the initial surprise had dissipated, I was ready for it to happen again. I did not have to wait long. He strike me tighter this time, and as he impressed me for a 3rd time, I realized my pink cigar had began to sploog pre-ejaculatory fluid onto his suit pants. He ordered me to stand once again and to remove all of my clothes, before commanding me to lie back down on his lap. He restricted my neck with one of his mitts and used the other to seize me by my balls. He wrung and tugged me until I was gagging uncontrollably, my entire figure squirming in intense grimaces of both agony and , my pink cigar still spasming jets of pre-ejaculatory fluid into his thigh. He continued to slap me with enlargening intensity, but then switched his tactic and began to knead me with oil. It sensed soothing as he ran it into the areas which were somewhat aching from the smacking, but then he began to shove his thumbs into my crevice again. tormentor Stone then told me to sit on his lap encountering him, my naked legs packaged around his body. Then he tilted me backwards, so my head was on the floor. He cautiously removed his ring before frosting his mitt in grease which he cascaded all over my rock rock-hard penis, absentmindedly frolicking with it before prodding his immense finger deep into my hole. Then he very cautiously removed a clear fucktoy from a ebony velvet bag. I immediately knew he was going to shove it into me and he did so casually and sans warning. It was thrilling. Intense. Beautiful. I submitted, completely to him. He could do whatever he wished to me. He milked me off with one mitt as he continued to thrust the object in and out of my spasming crevice with enlargening speed. I looked up at him, brainy as a button in his suit and tie, slightly breaking into a sweat as I writhed and snaked about underneath him. He told me that he wished me to jizz for him. I grasped my oil-covered pink cigar and began to tug at it, desperate to extend the feelings of deep fulfillment for as lengthy as I could before reaching orgasm. Then, just like that, I exploded. I sensed a rush of absolute blessing surging thru my figure as the seed shot out of me, all over my chest, my legs quivering uncontrollably. I lay on the floor, attempting to comprehend what had just happened, attempting to understand if I’d been penalized or rewarded, attempting to fathom why I was now sensing so powerfully connected to tormentor Stone and so, so desperate to be with him again.
I’ve always attempted so rock-hard to behave myself. My always said I was a people-pleaser, and I guess she’s not wrong. I attempt to glance smart. I attempt to be helpful. I attempt to listen and to learn. The grief is I just can’t seem to get things right. Sometimes I perceive that the tighter I try, the more likely I am to end up in trouble. To make matters worse, most of the time I just don’t know what I’ve done wrong, and it’s unlikely to learn from your mistakes if you don’t know what those mistakes are. I was informed yesterday evening that disciplinary act was required as a result of my latest behavior. No more information was given. I was simply told to report to tormentor Stone at 9pm. Of course, I spent the entire night and all of the day today worrying about what I’d done, attempting to replay every darned dialogue I’d ever had with tormentor Stone in an attempt to figure out why I’d been summoned. By the time I reached the chamber, I was a mess. tormentor Stone, unsurprisingly, said nothing. He just sat on a red tabouret in the darkened guest room and nodded me over to him, deep frustration etched all over his fantastic face. He immediately told me to remove my trousers and I did so, obediently, attempting to manage my nerves because my mitts just wouldn’t stop shaking. I stood for a moment or two, rigid with fear, as the tormentor looked up at me, assessing my punishment. Then he told me to lie via his lap. For a split second I couldn’t make myself move. I immediately realized that he was going to slap me—just like they did in the olden days. The thought of his giant mitts pelting down on my figure was appalling beyond words. I took a deep breath and tentatively moved toward his lap, somewhat clumsily lounging face down on top of it. I was immediately devoured by wafts of a beautiful odor which was coming from underneath his clothes. I was so profoundly sorry that it was tormentor Stone whom I’d let down. I have so much respect for him. It sounds crazy because the stud was about to discipline me, but there was something comforting about the prospect. He’s so tall and significant and I sensed so small and insignificant, I just wished to hold him. He ran his huge mitt over my culo cheeks. It sensed as however he were sizing me up, attempting to work out where to land his blows. My figure began to tense up as I began to imagine just how painful it was going to be. He was wearing large rings on his fingers. Would they cut into me? Make me ? I sensed his pink cigar stiffening in his trousers and starting to shove into my belly. It was clear that he was turned on by the thought of penalizing me and I was hesitant about how to process that information. He then spent what seemed like an age running his mitt over my butt and down onto my thighs. His movements sensed inquisitive, like he was somehow captivated by the form of my body. horrified as I was, I can’t refuse that the experience was also a lil' arousing, and that delectation brought with it a deep sense of shame. I heard myself extracting a series of groans, wishing all of this could be happening in different circumstances; but, simultaneously aware that it was the nature of this particular circumstance which was oddly fuelling my sexual excitement. I’ve seldom sensed so conflicted. Every time I attempted to glance up, he shoveled me back down. I longed to unzip my tie. I sensed like I was about to pass out. There was a pause. And then, thwack, his mitt made contact with my ass. It wasn’t against nude flesh. Thank God I was still in my garments. But it sent a shockwave thru my body. I don’t think it hurt. To be honest, too much adrenaline was surging thru me to be able to tell. It undoubtedly tingled afterwards. I tensed up waiting for another hit, but instead, he shoveled his mitt underneath my garbs and soothingly ran it over my naked culo cheeks. The delectation was wonderful. It immediately made me perceive safe, despite what had just happened. I stiffly restricted onto tormentor Stone’s leg, realizing that I could neither predict what was going to happen next, nor anticipate how I would react to it. He shoveled a finger rock-hard into my hole. It made me yelp; more, I suspect, out of shock, than because it hurt. At the same time, I sensed his pink cigar spasming against my tummy again. It was large—very large—and I all of a sudden found myself obsessing over the thought of it injecting me. If he wished me, he could have me. I would go after a giant of a stud like tormentor Stone to the end of the world if he asked me to. He slapped me again. Then again, tighter this time. My figure began to whirr with anticipation. He taught me to stand and to remove my shirt and tie. I jumped to my feet, immediately conforming his orders, aware, for the first-ever time, that I was rock rock-hard and tenting like crazy in my semi-see-through garments. I immediately became devoured with disgrace again. Surely I wasn’t meant to be onanism on this punishment? He would be horrified to think that it had that effect on me, right? I stood in my garmets as he glanced down at my dick. I was about to apologize, when he reached out and prodded it with his finger, stating what seemed so shittily obvious, that I was getting aroused. I told him that I was sorry. He nodded, too deep in thought to reply. Then he taught me to get back down over his lap and I did as asked. I sensed him picking something up from the floor. I didn’t dare to glance around to observe what it was, but it sensed cold as he ran it over my butt. Then he impressed me with it. It must have been made from wood. It was rock-hard and it hurt, but in a superb way. Then he shoveled my garbs down and my began to run cold. The thought of whatever he was holding striking naked flesh was one I wasn’t at all sure about. I sensed his pink cigar tenting against my tummy and then the weight of the object slamming against my butt cheek. It stung. It dazed me. But as shortly as the initial surprise had dissipated, I was ready for it to happen again. I did not have to wait long. He strike me tighter this time, and as he impressed me for a 3rd time, I realized my pink cigar had began to sploog pre-ejaculatory fluid onto his suit pants. He ordered me to stand once again and to remove all of my clothes, before commanding me to lie back down on his lap. He restricted my neck with one of his mitts and used the other to seize me by my balls. He wrung and tugged me until I was gagging uncontrollably, my entire figure squirming in intense grimaces of both agony and , my pink cigar still spasming jets of pre-ejaculatory fluid into his thigh. He continued to slap me with enlargening intensity, but then switched his tactic and began to knead me with oil. It sensed soothing as he ran it into the areas which were somewhat aching from the smacking, but then he began to shove his thumbs into my crevice again. tormentor Stone then told me to sit on his lap encountering him, my naked legs packaged around his body. Then he tilted me backwards, so my head was on the floor. He cautiously removed his ring before frosting his mitt in grease which he cascaded all over my rock rock-hard penis, absentmindedly frolicking with it before prodding his immense finger deep into my hole. Then he very cautiously removed a clear fucktoy from a ebony velvet bag. I immediately knew he was going to shove it into me and he did so casually and sans warning. It was thrilling. Intense. Beautiful. I submitted, completely to him. He could do whatever he wished to me. He milked me off with one mitt as he continued to thrust the object in and out of my spasming crevice with enlargening speed. I looked up at him, brainy as a button in his suit and tie, slightly breaking into a sweat as I writhed and snaked about underneath him. He told me that he wished me to jizz for him. I grasped my oil-covered pink cigar and began to tug at it, desperate to extend the feelings of deep fulfillment for as lengthy as I could before reaching orgasm. Then, just like that, I exploded. I sensed a rush of absolute blessing surging thru my figure as the seed shot out of me, all over my chest, my legs quivering uncontrollably. I lay on the floor, attempting to comprehend what had just happened, attempting to understand if I’d been penalized or rewarded, attempting to fathom why I was now sensing so powerfully connected to tormentor Stone and so, so desperate to be with him again.
Added: 2025-02-11 • Views: 25 • Duration: 28:26
Categories: Bareback, BDSM, Black, Cumshot, Fat, Hardcore, Masturbation, Old Man, Rough, Safe Sex, Small Cocks, Solo, Toys • Studio: Masonic Boys • Models: Serg Shepard, Dillon Stone
