Masonic Fellows - Apprentice Serg Shepard - Chapter 4 - Atonement
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When they informed me that I’d been called to attend my Atonement Ceremony, I felt confused. Atonement means just one thing to me, and that’s the acknowledgement of sin. I mean, I know we’re all sinners. I’ve read the Bible. I’ve heard the people with megaphones on street corners. But within the context of this order, the word made no sense to me. Since arriving here I’ve done nothing but try to be a better version of myself. I’ve worked hard. I’ve definitely always presented myself as positively as possible. What was I actually atoning for? More upsetting was the knowledge that my ceremony was to be overseen by tormentor Snow. To be honest, I was rather hoping to spend more time with tormentor Weston. I kinda thought or maybe expected that we had something going. And then it affected me… Perhaps I was atoning for my interest in him? I’ll confess to having repeatedly pleasured myself while thinking about him. I’ve also fairly frequently found myself draping around in places where I know he’ll be, indeed just to catch his eye. Perhaps the truth is that I’ve embarrassed tormentor Weston in some way? That is a sin of sorts, isn’t it? The ceremonial bedroom was in a different wing of the complex, one which I’d never been given permission to enter. I was escorted there by one of the chamber servants who didn’t seem to want to speak that much. Our soles echoed loudly as we ambled down the darkened corridor; I felt increasingly uneasy. The obedient stopped outside a large, ornately carved, wooden door and told me, rather sternly, to wait until I was summoned. Then he vanished into the darkness. I must have waited for at least 5 minutes, heart pounding in my ears, before hearing my name being called from inside... I entered, hoping the place to be neat and blindingly milky like the other ceremonial rooms, but this one was fairly different: This bedroom was packed with flickering, guttering candles, and so dark I had no idea how huge it was. It felt like some sort of temple and in the middle of the space there was a long, low table with a ebony silk sheet opened up over it. As my eyes became familiar to the darkness, I noticed tormentor Snow sitting in a suit and bind at the head of the table. 2 other schoolteachers were also present: tormentor Figata, and… yes! tormentor Weston. My heart, of course, leapt. It was exciting to watch him there; maybe I hadn’t embarrassed him after all. I revved and looked at him, hoping a smirk of encouragement or at least some sort of acknowledgement, but he looked hetero through me, like he didn’t know me. My instinct was to fashion it out; to stand upright, affecting an air of casual confidence, like I didn’t care what he thought. This therapy proved futile rather severely when tormentor Snow taught the other schoolteachers to get prepped the table. They pulled away the silk fabric to reveal what can only be described as a series of faux-cocks of enlargening sizes affixed to the table top. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but it definitely made me nervous. Snow then taught tormentor Weston to get prepped me. Time froze as the guy I’d become so affixed to stood up and ambled over to me, unzipping my bind with a distant, dispassionate look in his eye. I felt rejected, but there was no way I was going to demonstrate it. If tormentor Weston was no longer interested in me, I’d simply make him aware of what he was missing by totally smashing whatever naughty compete was heading my way. Weston stood behind me and undressed me slowly. I didn’t permit myself to sense intimidated. I know I have a figure which folks want to see. In fact, I’ve worked highly hard to make sure this is the case. I remained stoic and proud, even as Weston fetched a platinum tray with lubricant dispensers on it. I embarked to realize the nature of the compete I was about to endure, and attempted not to let that fact demonstrate on my face... I know tormentor Weston luved petting the greases into my figure but I remained aloof. There was no way I was going to give him the benefit of witnessing a chink in my armor. I knew my duty was to lower my ass down onto the first-ever of the pegs, and I did so as unflinchingly as possible. It actually felt rather good, and so I railed it, defiantly staring Weston in the face before deliberately turning my utter attention to tormentor Snow, who taught me to proceed to the next peg. This one was bigger, and it definitely made me groan. I stared tormentor Snow in the face. I don’t indeed understand what happened, but in that highly instantaneous I felt a rush of insane sexual excitement. I knew I wished tormentor Snow. The thought hit me like a thunder bolt it was a visceral wish which blind-sided me. I found myself staring at him, watching him arrogantly sitting with his gams parted, and I railed that peg imagining I was railing him. The 3rd peg was a little more problematic, but I managed it well enough, even tho' it sent trembles through me. At one point I felt tormentor Weston’s palm on my shoulder. I figured he was attempting to be reassuring or caring, but then I realized he was thrusting me down further onto the peg so my ass would take the whole thing. tormentor Snow asked if I was prepped for the next peg. It seemed considerably broader than the one I was riding, but I knew I’d be able to take it. I was right it took a pile of will-power and it hurt like hell, but I succeeded and I knew tormentor Snow was impressed. He asked if I thought I could keep going onto the penultimate peg and I nodded, despite not being entirely wooed myself... This next peg was considerably thicker and the moment I embarked to lower myself onto it, I felt a crashing sense of empending failure. I am, however, proud to say that I chased the mission, even tho' every last part of me was squealing not to do it. I shoved myself down onto the peg, jiggling furiously and experiencing like my butt was being ripped apart by some sort of bizarre self-inflicted wound. The sheer pleasure was beyond intense. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It was nearly as tho' my figure were shutting down. There was one more peg. It was broad and not at all penis-shaped. My own prick was plainly up for the compete I’ve seldom been so hard but my brain knew it was going to be impossible. I shuffled along the table and hovered over it, taking a deep breath before tentatively pulling down down. I was despairingly willing my fuck-hole to splay and take it, but try as I might, it just wasn’t happening. I had to acknowledge defeat, and embrace the notion that consequences were undoubtedly heading my way. tormentor Snow then informed me that I now need to prove my worthiness through sacrifice. His words freaked me out, but I remained as quiet as I could. Before I’d had time to process what was happening, he’d stood up and was running his frigs over my nipples. He unbuttoned his bind and I felt my prick juggling and dribbling with pre-cum. I was jumpy as all hell, but I have never felt such excitement. He pulled down his suit pants, unsheathing his enormous penis, which tented obscenely in his translucent garment. I had seldom seen a more cool thing. He taught me to turn around and bend over and I heard the sound of him lowering his lingerie and squirting lubricant onto his dick. He wasted no time whatsoever, slowly, but highly surely, thrusting his huge prick into me until I thought I was going to explode. It made me groan out loud in a combo of shock and unspoiled enthusiastic desire. He brought his gam up onto the table, wrapping his thigh around mine. I knew at that point that I wished tormentor Snow more than I’ve wished anyone or anything in my life. It sounds bizarre, but I knew he restrained the key which would unlock the next exciting chapter in my tour of discovery. He fucked me sans grace and I never wished it to stop. Each stroke was majestic and magical, amazing and animalistic. His prick hit places inwards me that I never knew existed. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at tormentor Weston. My wish for him was a thing of the past. I just wished Snow. From now on I was his and his only. He stood me up and indeed bashed me. So fast. So hard. So rhythmic. He wedged his whole figure into me until it was all I could do to keep myself standing upright. Then he let out of me and embarked to grunt. I felt his wad blasting up my back all the way to my neck. It must have been the most amazing look imaginable and I was so pleased that I’d triggered such an strong response from him. He shoved himself back into me and I jerked myself like a naughty person as his grimacing prick continued to cram me with lil' drops of cum. I erupted everywhere all over the table all over the dildos. His prick literally pumped the wad out of my body. Then, as he smooched me with overwhelming passion, I knew I was hooked.
When they informed me that I’d been called to attend my Atonement Ceremony, I felt confused. Atonement means just one thing to me, and that’s the acknowledgement of sin. I mean, I know we’re all sinners. I’ve read the Bible. I’ve heard the people with megaphones on street corners. But within the context of this order, the word made no sense to me. Since arriving here I’ve done nothing but try to be a better version of myself. I’ve worked hard. I’ve definitely always presented myself as positively as possible. What was I actually atoning for? More upsetting was the knowledge that my ceremony was to be overseen by tormentor Snow. To be honest, I was rather hoping to spend more time with tormentor Weston. I kinda thought or maybe expected that we had something going. And then it affected me… Perhaps I was atoning for my interest in him? I’ll confess to having repeatedly pleasured myself while thinking about him. I’ve also fairly frequently found myself draping around in places where I know he’ll be, indeed just to catch his eye. Perhaps the truth is that I’ve embarrassed tormentor Weston in some way? That is a sin of sorts, isn’t it? The ceremonial bedroom was in a different wing of the complex, one which I’d never been given permission to enter. I was escorted there by one of the chamber servants who didn’t seem to want to speak that much. Our soles echoed loudly as we ambled down the darkened corridor; I felt increasingly uneasy. The obedient stopped outside a large, ornately carved, wooden door and told me, rather sternly, to wait until I was summoned. Then he vanished into the darkness. I must have waited for at least 5 minutes, heart pounding in my ears, before hearing my name being called from inside... I entered, hoping the place to be neat and blindingly milky like the other ceremonial rooms, but this one was fairly different: This bedroom was packed with flickering, guttering candles, and so dark I had no idea how huge it was. It felt like some sort of temple and in the middle of the space there was a long, low table with a ebony silk sheet opened up over it. As my eyes became familiar to the darkness, I noticed tormentor Snow sitting in a suit and bind at the head of the table. 2 other schoolteachers were also present: tormentor Figata, and… yes! tormentor Weston. My heart, of course, leapt. It was exciting to watch him there; maybe I hadn’t embarrassed him after all. I revved and looked at him, hoping a smirk of encouragement or at least some sort of acknowledgement, but he looked hetero through me, like he didn’t know me. My instinct was to fashion it out; to stand upright, affecting an air of casual confidence, like I didn’t care what he thought. This therapy proved futile rather severely when tormentor Snow taught the other schoolteachers to get prepped the table. They pulled away the silk fabric to reveal what can only be described as a series of faux-cocks of enlargening sizes affixed to the table top. I didn’t know what was about to happen, but it definitely made me nervous. Snow then taught tormentor Weston to get prepped me. Time froze as the guy I’d become so affixed to stood up and ambled over to me, unzipping my bind with a distant, dispassionate look in his eye. I felt rejected, but there was no way I was going to demonstrate it. If tormentor Weston was no longer interested in me, I’d simply make him aware of what he was missing by totally smashing whatever naughty compete was heading my way. Weston stood behind me and undressed me slowly. I didn’t permit myself to sense intimidated. I know I have a figure which folks want to see. In fact, I’ve worked highly hard to make sure this is the case. I remained stoic and proud, even as Weston fetched a platinum tray with lubricant dispensers on it. I embarked to realize the nature of the compete I was about to endure, and attempted not to let that fact demonstrate on my face... I know tormentor Weston luved petting the greases into my figure but I remained aloof. There was no way I was going to give him the benefit of witnessing a chink in my armor. I knew my duty was to lower my ass down onto the first-ever of the pegs, and I did so as unflinchingly as possible. It actually felt rather good, and so I railed it, defiantly staring Weston in the face before deliberately turning my utter attention to tormentor Snow, who taught me to proceed to the next peg. This one was bigger, and it definitely made me groan. I stared tormentor Snow in the face. I don’t indeed understand what happened, but in that highly instantaneous I felt a rush of insane sexual excitement. I knew I wished tormentor Snow. The thought hit me like a thunder bolt it was a visceral wish which blind-sided me. I found myself staring at him, watching him arrogantly sitting with his gams parted, and I railed that peg imagining I was railing him. The 3rd peg was a little more problematic, but I managed it well enough, even tho' it sent trembles through me. At one point I felt tormentor Weston’s palm on my shoulder. I figured he was attempting to be reassuring or caring, but then I realized he was thrusting me down further onto the peg so my ass would take the whole thing. tormentor Snow asked if I was prepped for the next peg. It seemed considerably broader than the one I was riding, but I knew I’d be able to take it. I was right it took a pile of will-power and it hurt like hell, but I succeeded and I knew tormentor Snow was impressed. He asked if I thought I could keep going onto the penultimate peg and I nodded, despite not being entirely wooed myself... This next peg was considerably thicker and the moment I embarked to lower myself onto it, I felt a crashing sense of empending failure. I am, however, proud to say that I chased the mission, even tho' every last part of me was squealing not to do it. I shoved myself down onto the peg, jiggling furiously and experiencing like my butt was being ripped apart by some sort of bizarre self-inflicted wound. The sheer pleasure was beyond intense. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It was nearly as tho' my figure were shutting down. There was one more peg. It was broad and not at all penis-shaped. My own prick was plainly up for the compete I’ve seldom been so hard but my brain knew it was going to be impossible. I shuffled along the table and hovered over it, taking a deep breath before tentatively pulling down down. I was despairingly willing my fuck-hole to splay and take it, but try as I might, it just wasn’t happening. I had to acknowledge defeat, and embrace the notion that consequences were undoubtedly heading my way. tormentor Snow then informed me that I now need to prove my worthiness through sacrifice. His words freaked me out, but I remained as quiet as I could. Before I’d had time to process what was happening, he’d stood up and was running his frigs over my nipples. He unbuttoned his bind and I felt my prick juggling and dribbling with pre-cum. I was jumpy as all hell, but I have never felt such excitement. He pulled down his suit pants, unsheathing his enormous penis, which tented obscenely in his translucent garment. I had seldom seen a more cool thing. He taught me to turn around and bend over and I heard the sound of him lowering his lingerie and squirting lubricant onto his dick. He wasted no time whatsoever, slowly, but highly surely, thrusting his huge prick into me until I thought I was going to explode. It made me groan out loud in a combo of shock and unspoiled enthusiastic desire. He brought his gam up onto the table, wrapping his thigh around mine. I knew at that point that I wished tormentor Snow more than I’ve wished anyone or anything in my life. It sounds bizarre, but I knew he restrained the key which would unlock the next exciting chapter in my tour of discovery. He fucked me sans grace and I never wished it to stop. Each stroke was majestic and magical, amazing and animalistic. His prick hit places inwards me that I never knew existed. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at tormentor Weston. My wish for him was a thing of the past. I just wished Snow. From now on I was his and his only. He stood me up and indeed bashed me. So fast. So hard. So rhythmic. He wedged his whole figure into me until it was all I could do to keep myself standing upright. Then he let out of me and embarked to grunt. I felt his wad blasting up my back all the way to my neck. It must have been the most amazing look imaginable and I was so pleased that I’d triggered such an strong response from him. He shoved himself back into me and I jerked myself like a naughty person as his grimacing prick continued to cram me with lil' drops of cum. I erupted everywhere all over the table all over the dildos. His prick literally pumped the wad out of my body. Then, as he smooched me with overwhelming passion, I knew I was hooked.
Added: 2025-04-04 • Views: 3 • Duration: 34:03
Categories: Anal, Bareback, Big Dick, Black, Blowjob, Group Sex, Hardcore, Kissing, Old Man, Rough, Straight, Toys • Studio: Masonic Boys • Models: Matthew Figata, Serg Shepard, Adam Snow, Kristopher Weston
