It’s been a long journey to get here. On one hand, my first interview seems like a lifetime ago. On the other hand, it almost collapses down to, “Where did the time go?” Would I do it again? I don’t know, really. I’m sure that, if I had known everything that has happened since, on that first day, I would have never come through the front door. Now? I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve stood here in a tiled shower cubicle, warm water cascading over my body, washing the sex sweat from my skin, and a man’s cum out of my ass. But each time has been different. After my Interview, I just felt numb. My ass hurt. I knew what had happened, but I didn’t. I had rarely even masturbated. I know that sounds weird, but it’s true. When I did, I just came in the shower and didn’t even see it wash away down the drain. Now it was another man’s cum, a total stranger’s, dripping out of my own body. Coating my fingers as I washed it away. I didn’t know what to think. I always thought I was straight, but I had no reason to think anything else. Of course I was. What Master Kamp did to me felt wrong, but I couldn’t deny that it felt good. I could have run, but I knew I wasn’t going to. He showed me how little I understood about myself. I needed answers, even if it happened again. It would. Many times. The apprentices aren’t abused, though. Sure, the masters enjoy fucking us. I sometimes suspect they argue about whose turn it is or who gets which boy, but for the apprentices, there is always significance to it. Always a revelation to ourselves. At least until they can tell we have embraced who we are, then I’m not sure that they really need a reason, even though they still pretend like they do. Even those times, even when it is nothing more than desire on their part, it is about bringing us into the circle of brotherhood. Some apprentices dive right in. They lose their cherry and wonder how soon it will happen again. For others, it’s more of a struggle. They have to get over the idea that it’s “queer,” or “sinful,” or “perverted.” It’s not even a matter of “gay” or “straight.” We are the men of The Order. We give our bodies to our elders as a demonstration of submission and respect. Together, brothers share in a communion of pleasure. Men share what makes them men: their dicks, their cum, their prostates buried in their asses.Only a man can fully understand what it means to be a man. Only a man can fuck another man like a man. A few minutes ago, I celebrated my Ordination. I’m a full member of The Order. It has been many months since I entered a ritual, trembling with foreboding, wary of what might happen next. But this was the first time I genuinely felt confident and proud. Even though I didn’t know the details of what might happen, I knew that this was my graduation. I had been through the trials and succeeded. Today, I am a man of The Order.I did wonder which master would be there. In a way it seemed right that it was Master Stryker. The first time he fucked me was at my Attonement. That was, perhaps, the worst of the trials that I faced. You aren’t told what the ritual will be, and you aren’t told why it is happening either. In that moment all you know is that you have failed. The Elders are disappointed. You must be punished. The fact that the punishment is just getting fucked again is a relief. What you don’t understand until later is that it is a redemption of sorts. All men have limits. All men fall short. Brothers are not judged and cast out, not when they have done their best. The shortcoming is recognized and acknowledged. They are supported. They are encouraged. They do better next time.Still, in that moment, I was standing there not knowing what the heck was about to happen. Master Stryker comes striding into the room, looking like a giant. He stripped off his clothes, bent me over, and pounded my ass hard and deep until he filled me with his cum; then Master Kamp simply said, “You can leave now.” This time, Master Stryker was here to give me my reward, in a way. To celebrate my ultimate success.The only thing I know about sex is what I have experienced here, with these men. I suppose in a way what happened this time was what people call ‘making love’. It wasn’t about submission. There was a level of respect. As hard as Master Srtyker came, I know he enjoyed fucking me, but this was clearly about my pleasure. He undressed me gently, kissing me, and caressing my body as he uncovered it. Then he undressed himself as I watched. He still looks like a giant in my eyes, towering over me. I have to look up into his eyes, but they were soft and warm.He didn’t make me get on my knees and service him. He immediately placed me over the back of the sofa and knelt behind me, spreading my cheeks, to eat my ass. I felt like that went on forever. His rough, manly stubble scouring the tender skin of my ass while his tongue fucked into my hole over and over. Until then, I didn’t know that your eyes rolling back in your head was actually a thing, but they did. I was so turned on, so hungry to feel his cock spearing into my guts, that I could hardly breathe. I had been taught to never give a master directions, so I bit my lip and didn’t beg him to fuck me, even though every cell in my body wanted it.Finally he did. He stood up, put lube on his cock, and thrust it into me. As he fucked me, though, I still felt like it was about me. It was like he was using his cock like a bow playing a violin, drawing the music out of it. Like he meant for every thrust to send another shudder of pleasure rippling through my body. Then he lay back on the sofa and let me ride him, finding my own rhythm, directing the hard head of his dick exactly where I needed it to go. Only near the end, at that moment when instinct takes over and a man’s body needs to breed, did he start thrusting up into me again, until I felt his cum spurting into me. Not strange or gross now; the welcome gift of my brother’s power and virility, the intimate essence of his body joining with mine.