I’ve been here for over a year, but it feels like forever. Before my apprenticeship, my life was listless and grey. I had no purpose or excitement. Now, I feel alive. I work hard, exercise, eat well, dress well, and know who I am. I embrace every lesson and am confident that when my apprenticeship ends, I’ll be a man with nothing to fear. My Sacrament took place yesterday evening with Master Scott. I was thrilled to learn he’d oversee the ceremony. Something profound happened the first time I met him. He disciplined me with his hands, introducing me to an extreme pleasure I’ll never forget. The idea of meeting him again and taking things to the next level was exciting, but nerves set in as I approached the chamber. What if I disappointed him? What if this ritual was too much? Master Scott met me in a dimly lit chamber, wearing the bird-like mask many masters wear during rituals. The flickering candles cast eerie shadows, amplifying my unease. A padded table, covered in leather, stood in the center, resembling a fancy desk in a wealthy businessman’s office. I tried to calm myself, repeating a mantra to stay focused. Nervousness often requires yielding to the unknown. Worrying is futile, like trying to control a plane crash. You can’t get off, so you must enjoy the ride. As Master Scott gently pushed me against the table, his large hands caressed my chest, reaching towards my tie. His twinkling eyes beneath the mask excited me. My body melted, and my legs turned to jello. He stood behind me, undoing my belt and lowering my pants. His hands ran up and down my stomach and chest, tingly sensations spreading throughout my body. Every inch of me craved his powerful touch. I sat on the table, parting my legs to entice him. He removed his mask, and I saw his sleek hair, moustache, and kind eyes. He kissed me tenderly, and I knew he felt the same excitement. He wanted me, and I was his. He turned me around and asked me to place my knee on the table with one foot on the floor. He slowly pulled my underpants down and began to work his tongue into my hole. His moustache prickled my cheeks, setting me on fire. I heard him undressing as he worked on my ass. The rustle of his clothing sent shivers down my spine, telling me I was closer to my desire. I knew penetration would seal us together mentally, physically, and permanently. He turned me onto my back and stood between my legs. He removed his belt and unzipped his fly, pulling out his huge, erect penis. He asked if I was okay, comfortable, and happy. I liked his caring and attentiveness. I returned to my first position, feeling the red-hot heat of his nine-inch dick sliding into my body. The sensation was immediate and pleasurable. The harder he went, the more I longed for him. We changed positions, and I lay on my back, legs spread wide, staring into his eyes. Looking into his face as he thrust into me was beautiful. It was a sensation I’d never tire of. He moved slowly, seductively. I realized my hand had reached down to my cock. Initially, I jerked absentmindedly, then consciously, realizing I needed to release. I could’ve screamed anything, professing my love, devotion, or ownership. He said he was close, then rammed me hard. He roared and grunted, and his load filled me. As he pulled out, semen oozed out, but I held it in, wanting him inside me forever. The longer I kept it, the greater my chance of him being there somehow.