Elder Zachary looked down at his shirt as he pulled it out of his pants. He’d taken great care to keep it neatly tucked and pressed, only to now be unexpectedly stripping down. Bishop Hart sat a couple feet away, watching him. The older man had asked him a series of probing questions about his sexuality. It wasn’t unexpected to be asked about pornography or masturbation, but Hart’s questions seemed more directed and focused than usual. They weren’t just about sex or thoughts of sex. They were about men. Specifically attraction to men. Elder Zachary knew the seriousness of the accusation and was quick to deny everything. Simply having those thoughts could get a boy sent home and ruin his future. When Bishop Hart asked if he’d be willing to prove his claim, he quickly and blindly said yes-having no idea what the test would be. And just like that, he was told to strip down. Down to his garments. Elder Zachary did as he was told, scared to death of the alternative consequences. Especially given what he admitted to. He was honest about having been shown porn-even that it was gay porn-and that it had an affect on him. But he’d been telling himself for so long that it wasn’t his fault. He knew his body got erections seemingly randomly, at almost anything. This little inconvenience of nature did provide him with some comfort: he never had to really consider that he might be gay. He could continue lie to himself and say that it wasn’t the men who turned him on, it was just another unfortunately timed boner. But even with that defense, he could tell the occurrences were happening more and more around the same stimuli: sexual thoughts towards a handsome man. As he removed his pants, he felt the familiar stirring in his genitals that he’d felt during the porn. His body was reacting again. And yet again, the only thing around him was a handsome, well-dressed, older man sitting beside him. And Bishop Hart could tell his presence was powerful. "Take a seat," Hart said, watching Elder Zachary finish put away the last of his clothing. He was stripped down to just his garment shirt and shorts. He kept his arms in front of his body, as if subconsciously trying to hide his nakedness. Or was he hiding something else? Bishop Hart took his hand and placed on the inside of Zachary’s thigh. He kept it there for a second, looking into the boy’s evasive eyes. The missionary seemed to want to look anywhere but at the bishop. He feared that he might see through his protestations and into his deepest, darkest thoughts. This tactic was useless, however, as a slight rise appeared in the boy’s shorts. Hart only needed to glace for a second to see it, and that settled everything for him right then and there. But he wanted to see just how far the boy could be pushed before he admitted it to himself. Before he submitted to Hart and to his own desires. He moved his hand up the boy’s thigh, slowly, inching closer and closer toward his genitals. "Does this make you aroused?" Hart asked. "No!" Zachary replied, still firm in his rejection. But now, his tone was different. Lighter, breathier. It seemed that the contact with the older man’s hand stirred up feelings so deep that he began to breathe harder, making every exhale release with an audible sound… almost a moan. Bishop Hart smiled. He’d barely even touched the boy and already he was practically panting. "I don’t think you’re being honest with me." His hand moved further upward, closing in on the bottom of the leg of his garment shorts. His hand stopped when it reached the opening, sending Zachary’s heart into a thunderous roll. The older man moved his finger playfully under the fabric, slipping just onto the previously protected flesh of his leg, just barely grazing into his private zone. It was enough to shoot the boy’s erection to full tumsence. Elder Zachary closed his eyes for a moment, embarrassed by the state of his penis. He heard no reaction from Bishop Hart, who continued to seem completely cool and collected. Zachary opened his eyes and made contact with Hart’s. They were like hazel pools of tiny crystals. They had a sparkle to them that nearly hypnotized him. His lips curled at the corners, giving him an ever present rakish appearance. His square jawline helped define his masculine chin. Zachary didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help but find himself completely and utterly attracted to him. A fact that only snowballed his arousal, leading him into a physiological response that made him even more vulnerable and exposed. Hart stood up and moved behind Zachary’s chair. He told the boy to remove his garment shirt while he retrieved a white rope and a bottle of oil from a nearby table. As soon as Zachary placed his sheer top on the floor, Hart gently took both his wrists and brought them together behind him. "What’s going on?" he asked, worried. "It’s all right," Hart replied calmingly. "I’ve got you." A lump rose in the boy’s throat that he swallowed down nervously. He could feel the soft rope thread around his hands, knotting him into complete submission. Bishop Hart then returned to his chair and observed the restrained missionary. He took a hand and rubbed his smooth chest, feeling the warmth of his body as his heart raced beneath. His touch drew upward to his neck, then back down toward his genitals, ending back on the boy’s thigh where he’d first brought him to arousal. This time, however, his hand moved back upward, under the leg of his shorts and into his crotch. His fingers followed the path right to the boy’s swelling testicles, tickling them gently and stroking at the base of the boy’s shaft. Elder Zachary’s moans continued, no longer just the acoustic tenor of his excited breaths, but now a direct response to each of Bishop Hart’s carefully executed teases. Hart pulled off the boy’s shorts, stripping him of his last bit of cover, leaving him exposed, aroused, and completely at his mercy. He picked up the oil and poured a few drops onto his palms. Taking a hand onto the boy’s bare cock, he slowly stroked him downward, letting the glistening liquid fall down to his balls. The touch was so slow and so pleasurable, it was nearly excruciating for Elder Zachary to bear. His whole body shook in response, making his face flush, mouth water, and toes curl. Unable to break free of his restraints, all he could do was beg. "Please… stop…" "It seems like you like this," Bishop Hart responded, looking at the rock hard cock he held in his hands as his proof. "I-I can’t control that." Bishop Hart leaned in, stroking him more, slowly and softly. He whispered to him, "You don’t have to keep telling me what I want to hear." Bishop Hart looked at him long. They studied each other’s expression for a moment, and then a strange look came over the boy’s sweet, youthful face. Zachary didn’t know what to think, but he got the sense from Bishop Hart’s bright, hazel eyes that he truly didn’t have to put on an act. He didn’t have to fight it. He let go of his denial and found comfort in his resignation. He let out a deep moan as his cock pulsed in the handsome man’s slick hands, feeling his body ready itself for a massive ejaculation. Bishop Hart continued to stroke him, sensing the power exchange that had just occurred. Elder Zachary had completely submitted to him in that moment, and everything from here on out would be in his control. Looks like the Brethren have just found their newest recruit…
