Disciplinary Action

Elder Ingles made his way to the temple nervously, not quite sure if he was in trouble. He’d been told somewhat ominously to show up and to do what was asked of him, but he couldn’t tell if this was part of what would be expected during his induction or not.

Things started to become more clear when he was asked to strip down to his garments in the temple basement, however. He put his clothes away, folding them neatly on top of one another before proceeding into a private, gothic looking room.

At least, in his mind, it was an other world place. It was dark and big, without much light by which to see. He was instructed to close his eyes and kneel with his arms behind him. It wasn’t too dissimilar from when his hands had been bound before by Bishop Hart, only this time, everything felt different.  There wasn’t a warm flood of light, and the surrender of control was total.

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And there was no familiar priesthood leader guiding him. All he had was an anonymous temple patron guiding him with a cupped hand on his backside.

He was instructed to close his eyes, at which point another figure came close to him. He felt him wrapping his hands behind his back in some kind of rope. Additionally, he placed a blindfold over his eyes.

And then, just as quickly as the stranger appeared, they were gone. Quietly fading into the black.

The nervous missionary wasn’t sure if he was being punished or tested or what. It had only been a couple days since he’d fucked Bishop Gibson in the temple showers… something he was sure no one else could have known. But then again, the Brethren seemed to have ways of knowing his every move and thought.

As he continued to kneel, trapped in the darkness of the room and his blindfold, he heard some footsteps approaching.

They were heavy. Heeled. More like a dress shoe than a boot, but he could make out the slow, masculine walk of a man approaching. And based on the sound, it must have been someone important.

The stranger came right up behind him, running his hands over his body, feeling his chest and stomach over his garment shirt. His hands were warm, strong, but very well groomed. He wasn’t wearing any cologne of any kind, but Elder Ingles could detect his distinct, natural, masculine fragrance. It was familiar, but he couldn’t place who it was!

The groping and touching continued, travelling further down to his genitals, grabbing at his cock. He wasn’t hard, still trying to take in what was happening. But he couldn’t deny it felt a little good. He was being objectified and manhandled, and he didn’t even know by who!

The man pulled his hands away for a moment, sounding like he was rolling up his sleeves. Ingles confirmed that when the man’s arms reach back in front of him. He could feel the bare, broad forearms of the man as he reached for his cock once more. They were muscular. Very muscular.

His mind tried to imagine who it could be, thinking long and hard about the men he’d seen in the temple before. His cock got harder as the man kept grabbing it, working it between his fingers and massaging it into an aroused state.

Once his cock was fully hard, the masculine stranger stepped aside. Elder Ingles tried to listen hard to where he’d gone and what he was doing, but it wasn’t easy. He heard the sound of fabric rustling, but he wasn’t sure if it was clothing or not.

His imagination went wild, trying to picture the handsome muscle daddy behind him. Imagining him undressing. Trying to picture what he’d look like in his garments. Under his garments. Out of his garments. He felt his cock begin to seep out some pre-cum, fully hard and untouched, desperate to be stroked and milked. Instead, all he could do was wait and be patient.

The only thing that broke his fantasy was a hand being placed on his shoulder. It pushed him forward, gently, to position him to bend over. The stranger carefully brought him down, resting him on his chest as his ass took to the air. With his legs no longer carrying his fully weight, the man pulled down his garment shorts, leaving his lower half completely exposed

This was unlike any feeling Elder Ingles had ever experienced. He was nearly naked, his ass and cock out for anyone to see. And for all he knew, there was more than one person around. He felt the air hit his hole, causing it to clench slightly in instinctual reservation.

Then, suddenly, he felt a drop of oil hit his hole. Followed by another. And then a narrow, steady stream. The slick liquid coated his anus, flowing down over his balls, even making its way down his shaft and onto the head of his cock.

He felt the man’s hands grab his cock, stroking him, exciting him even more than before, giving him a taste of relief from his aching need to be touched. It seemed to make things worse, however. The more the man worked his shaft, the more he needed him to. His body pushed closer and closer to an intensity within him. And just then, the man’s hand left his penis and moved up to his hole, leaving him painfully on edge.

The unknown man then, massaged the boy’s hole. It was warm, wet, and slippery. If felt incredible, giving Elder Ingles a good amount of pleasure, but different from what he’d just had. No one had really touched him there since Bishop Hart, but he remembered how nice it felt to have his hole worked. He let out a quiet moan as the fingers teased the knot of his backside, wanting to cry out for more.

Just then, Elder Ingles felt the man’s member press against him. The cock was thicker and bigger than he anticipated, making his body tense up with nerves. He remembered how it felt to take Hart’s cock, but he hadn’t been penetrated since. And even then, he wasn’t blindfolded and bound. Not only could he not stop it if he wanted to, he couldn’t even tell who it was that was about to fuck him!

The stranger rubbed his cock over the boy’s hole, feeling it’s tightness and nervousness. The gentle massage did a lot to help comfort Ingles, knowing that the man wasn’t about to just quickly and painful shove his massive erection inside his body.

Elder Ingles took a deep breath, relaxed, and felt his body open up to receive the man’s piece. Sensing that subtle change, the muscular stranger pushed his cock inside very, very slowly, allowing Ingles’ sphincter time to adjust and make room for the foreign invader.

With that, Elder Ingles’ previous moans grew louder, as if the penetrating cock was pushing out of him more volume than he anticipated. The deeper it went, the more he seemed unable to hold in his sounds of pleasure. And before he knew it, he felt the hanging balls of the man fucking him, pressed hard against his ass. He had him. Every inch of him. And it turned him on more than he could believe. If only he knew who he was!
Published : 03/02/18

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