Bishop Hart has a particular way of doing things. And the brethren make allowances for his particular methods given his position of authority in the sacred order.
When he speaks to a missionary, he speaks very directly and very succinctly, without much in the way of subtlety. Especially when they’re being inducted in the Order.
Deep down he knows the boys are there to serve him, to worship him, and do whatever he asks. In that way, he sees no point in wasting time or words.
Elder Campbell observed this as soon as he entered the room. Crawling on all fours in just an oversized ceremonial robe, he felt like a pet with its tail between its legs. The small door he came through only cemented that feeling, and continued to color the remainder of his experience.
As soon as he made his way in, Bishop Hart grabbed him on the back of the neck while he was still on all fours.
“Come with me,†he said plainly, guiding him to the foot of a bed placed in the center of the white space. Nothing else was in the room. No framed pictures, no furniture. It seemed as though this tiny room had only one purpose, and that was to hold this secret bed.
The older man sat on the edge, looking down at his young servant. He looked into the boy’s puppy eyes eye, big and eager looking back up at him. Just the sight gave a rise to his pants, but instead, he demanded a different kind of attention.
“Take off my shoes,†he said. Again, with the tone of someone speaking to a lesser creature. Elder Campbell did as he was told and was thrown off by the disconnected way in which he was spoken to. It was strange to have Hart direct him in such a way, especially since he’d been fucked him and knew him in the most primal way. Still, he couldn’t deny that his own coverings were beginning to rise.
Add Comment