I know u shouldn't lie, and I know it's not terribly smart to lie to an imposing figure like Master Figata. Still, when that guy asked if I did or did not like studs, I reflexively said him I didn't.
Of course, that was wrong; that guy knew what Master Kamp had got out of me during my earlier interview with The Order. …More than just the truth. And yet, years of hiding my longest-held secret reflexively took over, even in the face of a Grandmaster.
Master Figata, his wizened face etched with a dubious look, asked me to stand. He had me remove my panties, then costume, tie, and lastly my collared shirt, leaving me down to no thing but my undergarments. An internal submission guided me throughout the motions, led by Figata's voice. It took charge when I was uncertain and, as Master Figata's hands disclosed to me, it was far greater quantity honest than I was.
My erection, exposing how much I was turned on by being ordered by aged chaps, crammed out against my clothing and stained the front with precum. Master Figata brushed his hands briefly across the tip of my member, and just that slight motion sent a spark coursing throughout the nerves of my body. It made me whimper with need.
How valuable it felt, I thought, to have the truth coaxed out of me.
He went behind me, and reached his arms over mine. Master Figata's stony hands squeezed my pecs, groping em firmly sufficiently that when his hands relaxed, I felt the ghost of his strength still in the flesh. I shuddered. The way this chab caressed me, crushing the muscle totally in his big palm, then working his grasp gently towards the tip of my teats, sent waves of joy coursing throughout my body.
It was so gripping — being manipulated like an object, like a toy. me to disclose secrets to somebody of such great vigour, who appeared to be to know exactly how to bring my body to the brink with practiced motions.
My legs were weak, and my knees trembled. Master Figata looked at me with that warm, welcoming smile and told no thing. He just kept fondling my chest, squeezing and kneading my pecs, occasionally using a thumb to shove hard on one nipp or some other.
With words of instruction I understood previous to I could even think about em, I discovered myself on all fours on top of the Master's cleared wooden desk.
He traced the lines of the desk with the tip of his finger as this chab walked behind me. With his hands upon me, this chab instructed me to widen my legs just a little wider. I complied, my body shaking with passion as this guy pulled my underclothes down. Those same meaty hands that nursed my front, now squeezed and caressed my rear.
"Beautiful," that guy murmured.
It felt worthy to be complimented, but more good to be played with. Mr. Figata brought his face betwixt my cheeks. He lapped at my entrance, and the plunge of his soaked tongue put me in a type of trance — I arched back against him, instinctively.
He obliged, working a hand under my butt cheeks and holding me steady as this guy attacked my aperture. Master coaxed me into a frenzy with every lap, occasionally fingering me as this chab caught his breath.
Master Figata's tongue lured me into a rhythm that made me forget the one and the other time and place. When the final flick slipped out of me, I almost collapsed onto the desk, overloaded with joy.
He rose up above me — I heard the clattering noise of his unbuckling strap as it dropped onto the floor. He took his dong in one hand, wanking himself sluggishly, then dipped it into my gap.
I had not ever felt such enjoyment. His thick manhood, like a meaty muscle, plunged and punched into me. It made my balls draw up taut inside. My body obeyed wordless orders of submission. I could solely grunt as this guy drove into me, and I allowed myself to be widen.
Each time this Master thrust into my wazoo, I felt as if I were going to fly apart. And with every thrust this guy discovered, throughout some divine , my prostate — that little knot of nerves tucked up inside of me that bombarded me with sensation.
As his pace quickened, that guy flipped me over onto my back. It was the 1st time since this guy brought me to the desk that I got to look at his face, which glowed with purpose. He pounded me over and over, and allowed me to wank my own rock-hard ramrod alongside him.
I didn't realize that this was The Order's lesson guiding my hand, for I was so lost in the waves of joy that no thought came to me at all. I just wanted to cum. And I wanted Master to cum inside me.
As if to celebrate my wordless admission, Master pulled out and jerked off his own much bigger shlong alongside mine. We exploded, jointly, and anointed my internal haunches with shared seed.
We laid like that for a short time, joined in shared carnality, perspired, and spent. He ran his fingers throughout my hair, cleaned me up with a nearby towel, then clothed me properly.
I left Master Figata's office with a far more good understanding of The Order, myself, and the value of truth.
It was one of the most excellent days of my life—and it was still but one of many lessons The Order, and my recent masters, had designed for me. After what Master Figata taught me, I was prepared to face em. All of em, and as often as possible.

Format: mp4
Duration: 29:57
Video: 1920x1080, AVC (H.264), 7773kbps
Audio: 315kbps

File size: 1.7 GB