Apprentice Devall Chapter 7: Disciplinary Action

When I discovered I’d been the subject of a disciplinary hearing, I was shocked and incensed. I’m always well-behaved. Being good is in my DNA. The idea that the masters had been forced to discuss my conduct was bad enough, but the fact that they’d come to the conclusion that I needed to be punished was almost incomprehensible. What had I done? Every time I think I’ve got a handle on my apprenticeship here, I get blindsided. It never gets any easier. I entered the chamber, terrified, with my heart thumping in my mouth, feeling like my tie was about to throttle me. Master Scott was sitting on a grand, red velvet chair in the gloom, looking stern and staring right at me. He instructed me to stand at his side, and then ordered me to remove my pants. I took a deep breath in an attempt to steady my nerves and to stop my hands from shaking, before tentatively unbuckling my belt, repeatedly looking at the master in a vain attempt to work out what was going on in his head. I’ve not had many dealings with Master Scott—he’s always seemed rather aloof, wandering around the complex in his expensive suits with his steel-gray hair and handsome mustache—but the more I looked at him, the more I wanted him. By the time I’d pushed my suit pants to the floor, I was rock hard and bulging like crazy in my garments. If I’ve learned nothing else from my time here, it’s that obfuscation is pointless. Master Scott knew that I was erect. If I’d tried to cover my cock with my hand, he’d instantly have pushed it aside. Sometimes I wonder how the other apprentices respond to all of this. We are, of course, forbidden to discuss anything which occurs in the chambers, but sometimes one of the other boys will return looking so flustered and distracted that it becomes almost impossible not to assume that we’re all being put through our paces in the same manner. Whether any of the others are so aroused by the procedures, I don’t know. All I know is that, as I removed my pants, I couldn’t tell whether I was terrified or turned on, proud or utterly ashamed; wildly conflicting sensations which are becoming increasingly commonplace here. Master Scott parted his legs and instructed me to lie across his lap. I instantly fathomed the nature of my punishment and a multitude of thoughts began to dance in my head. My body sank into his, my thighs wrapping comfortably around his right leg. He ran his hand over my butt. I tried to remain relaxed, but I was aware that my body was tensing up, waiting for that sudden, inevitable strike, wondering how it would feel and whether it would hurt. I knew it was coming, but he stroked me so gently, so softly. And then, bam, the palm of his hand made contact with my ass cheek. My entire body spasmed. It was probably more shocking than it was painful, but I knew he was testing my limits. He was almost certainly gonna hit me harder. As the bolt of adrenaline subsided, I became aware that he was stroking me again. The contrast excited me. I enjoyed the thought that he could oscillate so effectively between being loving and kind and punishing me with such profound aggression. The experience continued for what felt like an eternity. He brought his hand down on my butt again, then again, then repeatedly with growing force, but then, between strokes, he’d soothe me so tenderly. I waited in anticipation, my dick spewing pre-cum and twitching against his thigh, willing him to hit me harder. I wanted to know how much I could take and I was keen to impress him with my bravery. He told me to stand and to remove my shirt and tie. I did as requested, staring into his stunning eyes, almost scared by how much I wanted him. He ordered me to lie back down on his lap and I heard the sound of him picking up something from the floor. Then, wham, he hit me with it. The object was wooden, like a paddle. It made a cracking sound. The sensation was sharper than his hand and considerably more intense. Then he pulled my garments down, exposing my ass. Once again, I held my breath nervously, wondering how his hand would feel against naked flesh. He kept me waiting for the longest time until my heart was pounding with anticipation. Then he struck me again, then again, and again until I was gasping and groaning. He told me to stand. My dick was harder than it’s probably ever been, so much that Master Scott commented on it, uttering the understatement of the century; “you’re aroused.” He seemed surprised, maybe a little angry. I felt the need to apologize, but he merely instructed me to remove my garments, so I did just that. My dick sprang up as I pushed them to the floor. And then I was naked, standing in front of him, feeling excited yet unbelievably vulnerable—maybe excited because I felt so vulnerable. All I knew was that Master Scott was doing something which made me feel alive and that he was taking me to physical and mental places I didn’t know existed. Once again, I was instructed to lie over his knees, but instead of thrashing me decisively, as I was anticipating, he gently massaged oils into my butt cheeks. Yes, he struck me again, but the experience had migrated to something which felt a great deal more erotic and playful. I was instructed to kneel before him and he rubbed oils into my dick, his face coming closer and closer to mine until I was desperate for him to kiss me. Then he told me to sit on his lap—but this time facing him. For a moment I thought our lips would touch, but instead he lowered me slowly backwards until the top of my back made contact with the floor. He pushed my legs apart and started to rub oils into my hole, pushing fingers into me until I was shaking all over. Then he pulled a perspex dildo out of an ornate bag, which he coated with oils before inserting it into my hole. I looked up at him, watching the expression on his handsome face. I knew that he wanted me to enjoy the sensation and I became overcome with feelings of want—so overcome, in fact, that I grabbed my dick and started to pump it, and within seconds was exploding thick cream all over my stomach. He smiled. It was a smile which told me I’d impressed him. Then, finally, he kissed me before dismissing me.