Masonic Boys - Sage Roux and Tucker Barrett
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Apprentice Roux is one of our most in demand and successful apprentices. The masters are universal in their praise for the boy, and he’s expected to graduate with flying colors. Trio masters Snow, Stone and I have shared equal responsibility for him. Each of us has focussed on a different aspect of his training, using differing methods to bring out the highly best in him. Often, an apprentice is instructed on a stringently one-to-one basis, but Apprentice Roux’s teaching has been somewhat unique in the amount of gang work we have done. That said, the ancient and sacred Sacrament ceremony is a personal ritual. It brings an apprentice exceptionally close to his tormentor and it undoubtedly is not a spectator sport. Having developed a close bond with Apprentice Roux, I was thankful to be selected to oversee this key rite of passage. I love slipping into a three-piece suit. I love the way the fabric clings rigidly to my well-chiseled body and the way that the vest enhances the form of my torso. I love how the “v” at the bottom of my immaculately-tied truss points straight down to my crotch. I associate formal garb with sex. It’s an nearly pavlovian response. As I pull the trousers up, I invariably feel my salami stiffening. I observe the specks of wad here and there from where the prior boy’s precum has leaked out of his salami and wettened into my clothing. It’s been awhile since I had the suit dry-cleaned, it’s beginning to smell of sex. It’s an intoxicating, addictive smell which makes me throb. I had, as usual, already been stiff for a while by the time I signaled the dude into the darkened chamber. Everything was in order. The candles were flickering. I was masked-up, clad in the expensive aroma that tormentor Snow had endowed me. The dude looked great. He’d worked stiff on his appearance; his hair was neat, he was clad impeccably in a tee-shirt and tie. He seemed confident, he stood tall and proud, eyes glinting with lewd desire, twinged with just a hint of fear. dread is a healthy emotion. If he’s learned nothing else since his arrival, it’s that he should always hope the unexpected. As I ran my mitts temptingly over his body his breathing became shallow. His torso sensed rigid thru the fabric of his shirt. His physique has altered considerably since coming here. My fingers drifted up toward the node of his tie, which I undid slowly. He tongued his lips in anticipation. I removed my mask and gawped into his eyes. The level of proximity inbetween us enlargened with every passing second. A tormentor can let his guard down in the latter-stages of a boy’s training. The pendulum is expected to wag back toward an equal footing. Of course the apprentice must learn absolute submission, but eventually, it is expected that he will become a tormentor himself. For this to happen, he’ll need to be awakened to the force that he holds. Our goes touched. I brought my lips tantalizingly close to his. My arm ran down, down, down toward his bulging cock, which bounced within the gentle fabric of his pants. There was no rush. I had all the time in the world. I undid his tee-shirt button by button savouring every moment as I leisurely revealed his holy apparels which clung temptingly to the tender skin of his chest. Our lips finally touched. A bolt of unspoiled electricity transferred inbetween us. I packaged my mitts around his body and we smooched lingeringly. We stood for some time, gazing into each other’s eyes, breathing each other’s breath. I limited him tightly, wringing his torso, pressing myself possessively into him from behind. He was my charge. I undid his belt and permitted it to fall to the floor before standing behind him and nuzzling his ear, pulling his head back and smooching his neck with fine zeal like a vampire guzzling blood from the dude he’s in the process of siring. Apprentice Roux choked and groaned. I undid his trousers and shoveled my arm inbetween his rigid legs, seizing his salami thru the scorching fabric of his pre-cum-soaked underpants and milking him off, waves of unspoiled rapture abruptly surging thru my body. I shoveled him against the large, ceremonial bench in the middle of the room. I removed my suit jacket, uncovering my vest, the chain of my fob-watch glinting in the candlelight. He looked around at me. I smiled, then knelt, leisurely shoveling down his underpants to unveil the true glory of his peach-like butt. Within seconds my tongue was inwards it; my facial hair rubbing against his butt cheeks as I made his nail hole quiver and dance. I undid my belt and undid my pants. The dude revved around and I fed my fat stiff manstick into his warm, seductive mouth. He throated as I inched it deeper and deeper into his throat. It wasn’t enough. I needed to fuck...
Apprentice Roux is one of our most in demand and successful apprentices. The masters are universal in their praise for the boy, and he’s expected to graduate with flying colors. Trio masters Snow, Stone and I have shared equal responsibility for him. Each of us has focussed on a different aspect of his training, using differing methods to bring out the highly best in him. Often, an apprentice is instructed on a stringently one-to-one basis, but Apprentice Roux’s teaching has been somewhat unique in the amount of gang work we have done. That said, the ancient and sacred Sacrament ceremony is a personal ritual. It brings an apprentice exceptionally close to his tormentor and it undoubtedly is not a spectator sport. Having developed a close bond with Apprentice Roux, I was thankful to be selected to oversee this key rite of passage. I love slipping into a three-piece suit. I love the way the fabric clings rigidly to my well-chiseled body and the way that the vest enhances the form of my torso. I love how the “v” at the bottom of my immaculately-tied truss points straight down to my crotch. I associate formal garb with sex. It’s an nearly pavlovian response. As I pull the trousers up, I invariably feel my salami stiffening. I observe the specks of wad here and there from where the prior boy’s precum has leaked out of his salami and wettened into my clothing. It’s been awhile since I had the suit dry-cleaned, it’s beginning to smell of sex. It’s an intoxicating, addictive smell which makes me throb. I had, as usual, already been stiff for a while by the time I signaled the dude into the darkened chamber. Everything was in order. The candles were flickering. I was masked-up, clad in the expensive aroma that tormentor Snow had endowed me. The dude looked great. He’d worked stiff on his appearance; his hair was neat, he was clad impeccably in a tee-shirt and tie. He seemed confident, he stood tall and proud, eyes glinting with lewd desire, twinged with just a hint of fear. dread is a healthy emotion. If he’s learned nothing else since his arrival, it’s that he should always hope the unexpected. As I ran my mitts temptingly over his body his breathing became shallow. His torso sensed rigid thru the fabric of his shirt. His physique has altered considerably since coming here. My fingers drifted up toward the node of his tie, which I undid slowly. He tongued his lips in anticipation. I removed my mask and gawped into his eyes. The level of proximity inbetween us enlargened with every passing second. A tormentor can let his guard down in the latter-stages of a boy’s training. The pendulum is expected to wag back toward an equal footing. Of course the apprentice must learn absolute submission, but eventually, it is expected that he will become a tormentor himself. For this to happen, he’ll need to be awakened to the force that he holds. Our goes touched. I brought my lips tantalizingly close to his. My arm ran down, down, down toward his bulging cock, which bounced within the gentle fabric of his pants. There was no rush. I had all the time in the world. I undid his tee-shirt button by button savouring every moment as I leisurely revealed his holy apparels which clung temptingly to the tender skin of his chest. Our lips finally touched. A bolt of unspoiled electricity transferred inbetween us. I packaged my mitts around his body and we smooched lingeringly. We stood for some time, gazing into each other’s eyes, breathing each other’s breath. I limited him tightly, wringing his torso, pressing myself possessively into him from behind. He was my charge. I undid his belt and permitted it to fall to the floor before standing behind him and nuzzling his ear, pulling his head back and smooching his neck with fine zeal like a vampire guzzling blood from the dude he’s in the process of siring. Apprentice Roux choked and groaned. I undid his trousers and shoveled my arm inbetween his rigid legs, seizing his salami thru the scorching fabric of his pre-cum-soaked underpants and milking him off, waves of unspoiled rapture abruptly surging thru my body. I shoveled him against the large, ceremonial bench in the middle of the room. I removed my suit jacket, uncovering my vest, the chain of my fob-watch glinting in the candlelight. He looked around at me. I smiled, then knelt, leisurely shoveling down his underpants to unveil the true glory of his peach-like butt. Within seconds my tongue was inwards it; my facial hair rubbing against his butt cheeks as I made his nail hole quiver and dance. I undid my belt and undid my pants. The dude revved around and I fed my fat stiff manstick into his warm, seductive mouth. He throated as I inched it deeper and deeper into his throat. It wasn’t enough. I needed to fuck...
Added: 2025-05-21 • Views: 0 • Duration: 29:52
