Splayed and spread across the altar, the tiny bottom pleaded for the master to take him. And not just to take his hole, or his lust, but to take his soul and lift it up. He wanted Master Legrand to fuck him so thoroughly that it would raise him higher in The Order’s estimation, and rub just a bit of the master’s power onto him. He wanted to be a vessel upon which The Order itself would insert itself, in any orifice it craved, with any and all meaning that came with it. And that’s exactly what Master Legrand was there to do-to insert meaning directly into the boy’s innards, with a controlled agony and ecstasy the likes of which can only be obtained through his hips, intergenerational thrusts, and considerable seed.
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