One of the chamber servants provided me with a flimsy white ceremonial gown to wear. It was made from a multi-pleated length of fabric which looked like a complicated piece of origami. It took the longest time to work out how I was meant to wear it and, despite it being made from vast amounts of material, when I finally managed to get it on correctly, I realized how little of my body it was covering.

I was instructed to crawl into the room, which was light and airy and lined with billowing curtains. They didn’t look too dissimilar from the gown I was wearing. Master Figata was sitting on a soft, bed-like bench in the center of the room, decked out all smart in a well-fitting, white suit and tie, legs suggestively parted. Master Weston was standing, somewhat aloofly, at the back of the space. I felt a flutter of nerves; a sensation I’ve learned to enjoy because it means my body is subconsciously preparing itself to take a dive into the unknown.

All apprentices are encouraged to read as much material as they can about the covenant ritual. It is essentially an expression of subservience to the brotherhood, one which represents an apprentice’s absolute commitment to The Order. As such, it’s considered the most solemn, mystical and important of all the ceremonies. One of the books I read described it as quasi-religious, referencing Mary Magdalene washing Jesus’ feet with her hair.

It is certainly true that an apprentice must start by gently washing his master’s feet with a cloth. I’ve never understood the fascination that some people have with feet, but I was surprised by how exciting I found it in reality. I think the silence in the space really enhanced the experience. I could hear a distant ticking clock and the soft, involuntary sighs that Master Figata made as he breathed out. The gentle rustle my cloth made as I ran it up and down the soles of the master’s feet made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I tried to make the experience as seductive and erotic as I could. I wanted him to want me.

Before long, I was ordered to stand up. Master Figata moved in front of me and gently ran his giant hands over my shoulders, and over the flesh on my upper chest, which had been exposed by the cut of the gown. I instantly felt my heart thumping with excitement as I looked into his wise eyes and caught a glimpse of sexual intent flashing from within. He turned me around and continued to touch me, pausing only to remove his suit jacket.

The gown I was wearing was held together by a single bow of fabric, which he very casually undid, causing the whole thing to billow to the ground, leaving me entirely naked, my dick twitching with adrenalised anticipation.

He commanded me to get onto the bed, which was covered entirely in white sheets with a single, deep red blanket on the top. It was the only splash of color in an otherwise gleaming, white landscape. A reminder, perhaps, that though we like to think of ourselves as pure, we’re all periodically drawn in by carnal temptation.

I squatted on all fours and presented my ass to him as dutifully as I could. I could hear the swishing of him undoing his shirt cuffs and removing his tie, and then I sensed him kneeling down behind me. Of course I knew what was coming. Before long I would feel the overwhelming sensation of his tongue sliding between my ass cheeks and into my hole. For the next few blissful minutes I would enter an almost hypnotic trance as my body responded to every flicker, flutter and thrust of his mouth, lips and tongue. By the time he was done, my entire being would have yielded to him, desperate to feel his dick inside me.

And so it came to pass, but with even more intensity than I’d expected. I looked across at Master Weston, still standing in the corner of the room, suddenly remembering every last beautiful detail of my first encounter with him, transported to the moment that he finally relieved me of my innocence.

My attention returned to Master Figata. I was excited at the prospect of finally taking his dick. Our moment of intimacy was the first I'd ever experienced with a man, but it did not lead to penetrative sex. Of course, I’ve fantasized ever since about how it might have felt, wondering if I would ever get to experience it in reality. And now suddenly, all of those dreams were coming true.

He stood up and ordered me to turn and face him. I glanced down and saw the outline of his big dick pressing against the tight fabric of his suit pants. He unzipped his fly, then pushed his groin towards my mouth. I eagerly set to work, taking great gulps of the musky, manly smell between his legs while using my mouth to ensure that his amazing member stood proudly to attention. It’s impossible to describe how much I wanted him, how desperate I was to please him and how keenly I understood that he was my master.

Figata then pushed me back down onto the bed and continued to eat me out. I found myself glancing back towards Master Weston, who was now rubbing his crotch, plainly turned on by what he was witnessing. I looked into his eyes and he smiled at me. At that moment I felt a deep-seated urge to serve him as well.

Then Master Figata stood behind me, dropped his trunks and pushed himself into me. A twinge of discomfort instantly gave way to a feeling of calmness. It sounds crazy, but I suddenly felt complete. I looked up at Master Weston who’d approached the bed and was kneeling on it. His groin was now less than a couple of feet away from me.

Master Figata fucked me with deep, gliding, thrilling strokes, continually varying the pace to keep me on my toes. I was helpless, helpless to do anything other than groan and pant in response to his grinding. It was impossible not to stare into Weston’s eyes, willing him to remember the magic of our encounters. Weston reached out and held me by my chin, pushing his thumb into my mouth, which I hungrily sucked.

Time seemed to stand still as I became lost in his eyes. Then he leant forward and pushed his mouth against mine and we kissed with such profound passion. We kissed as equals, sharing our mutual love of the brotherhood. Weston was my sire.

Master Figata then ordered me onto my back and Weston held my legs up as Figata penetrated me, staring down into my eyes, a look of concentration and dogged conviction plastered across his face. Then he began to kiss me and I felt my allegiance switching once again to him. Perhaps my destiny was to serve him instead? Perhaps it was to serve them both? Perhaps they merely represented The Order, and it ultimately didn’t matter which master I was in love with at any given moment.

Figata’s strokes intensified and he started to grunt and groan, plainly ramping himself up towards a release. He pulled out and immediately shot his load, semen pouring out of the tip of his dick and rolling down onto my thighs. Seconds later he pushed himself back into me again. As he pulled out, he came for a second time. The semen was still rolling out of his dick as he left the room.