President Faust has always had a good rapport with other members of The Order. Their fraternal order and bondsof connected the priesthood holders in ways that few could imagine. But there are levels of seniority even within such an all-male collective. And as such, those at the top must never be questioned or disobeyed.
Bishop Gibson has been a loyal and faithful servant, overseeing the inspection and induction of many young missionaries, bringing them into the fold and instructing them on how to please his fellow leaders. His youthful demeanor and spirit is familiar and appealing to the younger boys, making him an effective tool in recruitment.
Still, he knows his place and yields to his superiors. He knows how to behave and when to engage. And while his obedience has been unwavering, President Faust is determined to maintain discipline.
President Faust sees the way his stable of young missionaries fawn of Bishop Gibson. And why not? He’s a smart, capable, sexy young man with a blond beard and penetrating eyes. Faust knows the temptations of authority, having indulged in many himself.
Even so, President Faust is more senior and has claim to the boys that have Gibson’s attention. Certain that he’s fucking him without his permission, he knows he must intervene immediately.
Bishop Gibson was told to meet the president in the temple basement. He wasn’t concerned as he’d been frequently shadowing the senior leadership in order to be groomed for higher power. He knew he was heading in for a disciplinary sentence of some sort. He had no idea, however, that he was the one set for atonement…
As he came into the dark room, his eyes stared up the priesthood stretcher, thinking to the times he’d witnessed the young missionaries struggle to reach the end. President Faust entered a short while after, bearing the expression of a man enraged. His grey eyes pierced through Gibson’s, catching him off guard and sending him into a state of fear.
Faust explained what was going to happen, that Gibson was going to submit to him and be taught the consequences of breaking his covenant. Gibson wanted to speak up and defend himself, but he knew all too well that the decision had already been made and there was nothing he could do to change the events to come.
Bishop Gibson stood still and attentive, like a servant waiting for his orders. Faust stared at him up and down, inspecting the young man’s demeanor. He could see that he was nervous. Good, he thought to himself. I want him to know I mean business.
President Faust removed the bishop’s tie in quick, swift motions. The silk fabric cut through the air as it unknotted, making audible noises at it was whipped from his neck. Faust continued to undress him in a similar, aggressive manner, observing the reactions of the young man before him.
Gibson flinched slightly, scared of what might happen. He of all people has seen what President Faust is capable when inspired to dominate. The handsome, salt and pepper beard man had a talent for unyielding intensity, bringing many boys to the edge of tears and moans of pleasure and pain before granting them the mercy of release.
Once Gibson was fully undressed, Faust looked into the young man’s eyes. There it was: terror and fear, but also, and just as importantly, the unbreakable desire to submit and be worthy. This alone could have been the test, but Faust was now completely inspired to play the part of disciplinarian, was going to see it through.
He pointed to the starting peg of the stretcher, indicating his orders without speaking. Bishop Gibson understood and moved himself to the first peg. Faust followed behind with a bottle of oil, pouring some onto his hand. He ran his fingers over the first peg, watching as it shined up in his hand.
“Sit,” Faust ordered succinctly and firmly, like the way an owner might speak to a misbehaved pooch. Gibson lifted his bare cock in his hands, cupping it up to keep his testicles and scrotum from hanging in the way of Faust’s view. He knew he liked seeing the peg go in, and he was determined to please him and prove his devotion.
President Faust watched as the peg popped inside the young man’s tight hole, placing a hand on his shoulder to pressure him downward on it. He didn’t want him easing his way on it. He wanted him to feel the full make of the lesson.
As Gibson sat, looking up at Faust’s stern, handsome face, he looked for a sign of approval–something to show he’d done well. Faust remained silent, looking down at him. The only thing he did, however, was slowly and carefully remove his tie.
With his shirt collar open, he could see a few stray silver hairs from the man’s broad chest poking up toward his neck. Gibson’s eyes widened, aroused both by the visual of the man undressing as well as the foreign object pressing between the insides of his anus.
Faust let the tie fall to the floor, brought his hand below the boy’s chin, lifted it up so his face met his, saying simply, “Up.”
Gibson obeyed, rising up from the peg and standing at attention over the bench. He saw the line of pegs ahead of him, wondering how far he’d have to go to prove his loyalty.
“Sit,” Faust said once more, running his fingers again on the next peg before him.
Gibson did as he was told, pressing himself down on the second peg. This time, as it entered him, President Faust unbuttoned his shirt, revealing more of his broad chest, even glimpsing the top of his garments.
It drove Gibson wild to see this. President Faust was by far one of the most handsome men he’d ever seen, and coupled with the alpha presence that came off him, he exuded a masculine eroticism that cut through to Gibson’s core.
“Up,” Faust said again. The man spit into his hand this time, wetting his fingers with his own natural lubricant. He rubbed his saliva on the third, larger peg, knowing full well what this would do.
Gibson obeyed, pressing his slick hole down on the peg in front of him. Luckily his hole was still slippery from the previous pegs, otherwise the saliva would have provided little help in getting the object inside him. Even then, he felt the struggle as it worked its way into him, reminding him again of Faust’s capability for inspired sexual sadism.
As his butt made full contact with the bench, he watched Gibson remove his suspenders and shirt, giving him a view of the crisp, white garments that clung to his full, muscular, daddy chest. The silver and black hairs poked up through top, seeming to serve almost as medals of honor and authority.
It was then that Faust broke his his routine and came close to the struggling bishop. In an act of paternal support and appreciation, he wrapped his thick, muscular arm around the boy’s head, bringing him for his face to rest on his pec.
The young man felt the warmth and power of the man as he was taken in. It made the peg easier to take, relaxing him and exciting him all at once. Through the garment shirt, Gibson felt the rise of a firm, sensual object: Faust’s nipple.
He didn’t know why, but he knew he had to taste it. His lips pressed on the erect nipple, feeling it slip into his mouth, covered by cloth, but nevertheless making itself known to him. He closed his eyes, feeling comfort and desire for this powerful man, wanting to taste more and take more. He began to rock back and forth on the peg, feeling it press against his prostate as he suckled his daddy figure.
Faust looked down, a partneral smile crossing his face, knowing this boy was his. But he wasn’t done. Three pegs down, three to go, and his own concealed cock leaked with each sensual lick of his good servant…