I find it very difficult to look at Master Weston without blushing. I see him walking along the halls and when our eyes meet, I invariably find myself thinking about the incredible things that happened when we were last alone together. I don’t think I ever could have predicted that my life would end up making such a dramatic journey away from the path I’d imagined it taking. I’d always felt very strongly that I’d settle down with a nice young girl, and that we’d get married and have children and live a comfortable but fairly ordinary life. If someone had told me that I’d end up with a thing for older, suited men and an almost obsessive desire to be subservient towards them, I’d have laughed. And yet, here I am… For some reason, Master Weston ticks all my boxes. Grey-haired, well-built and incredibly fit for his age, and a level of power and authority so strong that I find myself fantasizing about the extremes I’d be prepared to go to simply to please him. I was summoned to one of the ceremonial rooms to be anointed the other day and was excited to discover that Master Weston was the one who’d lead the ritual. The thought of being alone again with him in a room filled me with great excitement; I couldn’t sleep thinking of what might happen. I arrived right on time. I was handed a simple white robe by one of the servants and led into an area where I washed myself carefully. The robe was designed to slip over the head like a flimsy cotton kaftan. I was instructed to remain naked underneath, which felt pretty strange because none of the cloth covered the sides of my body and there was barely anything to protect my modesty. Master Weston’s voice instructed me to enter the main space. I walked in to find him sitting on a bench, dressed in a beautifully-fitted, pure white suit with an entire wall of white, floor-to-ceiling curtains billowing behind him like some kind of film set. The sight was as awe-inspiring as it was unnervingly surreal. For the briefest moment, I wondered if I was somehow standing at the pearly gates, about to atone for my earthly sins. Master Weston looked up at me and smiled, proudly I think. I felt a million butterflies flapping in my stomach. He stood and walked up to me, informing me that I was due to be anointed and that I was required to do everything asked of me. The statement, of course, was music to my ears, and when he removed his suit jacket, unleashing his intoxicating scent into the room, my heart started pounding. He rolled up his sleeves and gathered up a series of metal containers from the corner of the room. It turned out that they were filled with warm oils with unfamiliar, heady aromas. Master Weston dipped a finger into one of them before drawing a line of oil across my forehead. He repeated the action on my ears, my nose, and my mouth. Before long, he’d rubbed oil into most parts of my body. Each line that he drew made me feel more at one with him, more respected somehow and, bizarrely, more like a man. He pushed my robe aside, and I was as good as naked. I felt no shame that my penis was hard and that it bounced and danced with increasing excitement every time Master Weston’s fingertips drifted onto a new zone of my body. I realized that strings of pre-cum were pouring uncontrollably from my penis, hanging from the tip like delicate chains of silver. There was no hiding that my body was in a state of extreme arousal. I desired Master Weston in a way which I couldn’t fully comprehend. He knelt in front of me and caught a long stream of pre-cum with his tongue, before taking my penis into his warm mouth. The sensation was mind-blowingly pleasurable. I began to tremble; waves of yearning sexual energy rolled up and down my body. At that moment, Master Weston instructed me to sit down on the bench, which was fine with me because my knees had started to buckle. He squatted down beneath me and brought my foot up onto his thigh, massaging oil into every part of it before gently sucking my toes. Then, he stood up and kissed me. The kiss was both passionate and respectful, and I longingly melted into his soft lips. I was his. He was mine. There was no one else in the world. He began to remove his clothes, slowly unbuttoning his shirt to reveal an impressive, bear-like body. The hairs were dark around his stomach and greyer around the chest. I dropped to my knees to serve him and he pushed his underwear down to reveal his stiffening member which I began to suck. It tasted wonderful and it responded to my hungry lips, doubling in size and becoming rock solid. I tried to get it as deep as I could into my mouth, even down into my throat, fighting the desperate urge to gag. He ordered me onto all fours and knelt behind me, rubbing his beard between my ass cheeks, and probing my hole with his talented tongue until I was desperate to feel his beautiful dick inside me. I didn’t need to wait long. He pressed himself against my hole, which immediately opened itself up for him. Moments later, he was in a push-up position above me, thrusting in and out, pounding me like a huge stag in heat, ramming his giant dick as far as he could into my guts. He knelt up behind me and I started to ride his dick as fast and as hard as I could, squeezing my ass muscles around his hard cock while he loudly moaned, groaned, and grunted. He turned me onto my back and I watched as his face took on a look of determination, almost as though his sudden new desire was to utterly ruin my ass. I grabbed hold of his nipples and twisted them as hard as I could with my fingertips until he was purring like a cat—and then roaring like a lion. Moments later, he pulled his dick out of me and shot an immense load all over my stomach. Part of me was disappointed that he hadn’t cum inside me, but before I could dwell on that he pushed his dick back into me so that his powerful DNA could find its way into my bloodstream. He collapsed, utterly exhausted, onto my body, and we kissed passionately for what seemed forever, our bodies interwoven, connected mentally, physically, and now spiritually.