It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt that scared. As I walked to the interview room down all those dusty hallways, I started to realize how desperate I was to join The Order. It was vital for me to make a good first impression. I must have stood in front of my mirror that morning for at least an hour, making sure there wasn’t a hair out of place on my head, and attempting to get the knot of my tie looking as perfect as possible.

I don’t think anything could have prepared me for the room where my interview took place. Everything in there was gleaming white: the walls, the furniture, the carpet. The hallway had been really dark and lined with wooden panels, so my eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Master Napoli was standing in the space. I’ll be honest; the sight of him almost made me gasp. He looked so powerful, dressed in his fitted white suit. He was dark-featured and he had the sort of handsome looks I always associated with Italian men. It’s funny— before I came here, I’d never questioned my sexuality, but some of the Masters are distractingly good looking. I mean, it’s not that I’m attracted to them as such, but I am in awe of them. I find myself imagining how it would feel to be one of them. Does that make sense?

Master Napoli instructed me to sit down on a fancy chair before explaining that he was going to ask me a series of questions which I was to answer honestly. I immediately felt uneasy. It was like he was already suspicious of me and that he was somehow expecting me to lie. Then his face softened and he sat next to me, placing a hand on my thigh. His warm touch sent shockwaves through my body and my heart started pounding in my ears. He smelled amazing. It was a scent I’ve never encountered before. It engulfed me the moment he sat down, enveloping me in a haze of sudden, intense excitement.

But his questions caught me off guard. He asked if I’d ever looked at another man in a lustful way. I said no, largely because I’m not sure I understood the question. And to be honest, I answered no to all of his questions for the same reason, but as his hand continued to grasp my thigh, I began to wonder if I was lying. He asked if I’d looked at pornography involving men and I truthfully said that I hadn’t. Then he asked when I’d last masturbated and I was shocked. I mean, of course I get hard—particularly in the mornings—but it’s easy enough to think about other stuff until those unwelcome thoughts go away. Unfortunately, the more Master Napoli continued with his bizarre line of questioning, the more I found myself thinking about sex. Worse still, I realized I was thinking about it with him. I felt myself flushing red, terrified that he’d look between my legs and see that my penis was hard.

He asked if I was willing to prove that I wasn’t sexually attracted to men. The question hit me like a bolt of lightning. He told me to stand, and he did the same—removing his jacket like he was getting ready for a fight. His torso was straining his well-tailored shirt. I genuinely didn’t know where to look and whether to be terrified or excited. When he told me to remove my shirt, 99 percent of me wanted to say no. I wanted to walk out of the room in shame and then walk and walk and walk until I was back home and could pretend the whole thing had been nothing but a crazy dream. But, before I could take stock, I felt my fingers reaching up to my tie and loosening it…

He stepped right up to me—this huge brute of a man—waiting, intimidatingly, offering no sense of what was about to happen. I was shaking horribly as I attempted to undo the buttons of my shirt. I finally found the courage to look him in the eye, and, as the nerves began to dissipate, I began to act a little more nonchalantly, like I was taking this entire humiliating experience in stride.

He undid his shirt cuffs, and for a moment I thought he was going to throw a punch at me. Instead, he ordered me to take off my pants. This time I didn’t hesitate. I merely started to unbuckle my belt and before I’d had the chance to wonder what the hell was going on, I’d allowed my pants to drop to the ground with a thud. As he rolled up his sleeves, I managed to convince myself that he was about to challenge me to some sort of wrestling match.

Then he told me to sit down again—gently touching my chest with the back of his hand in a way which made my legs go all wobbly and give out from under me. He walked around the back of the chair, pulled my hands behind me, and, seconds later, I felt him tying them together with some kind of rope. My heart was pounding with terror…

I was astonished when I felt his hands gently running all over my chest. After I came to grips with the shock of what was happening, I began to feel my body relaxing—somehow melting to his touch—and before I could take stock, I heard noises of pure pleasure coming from my mouth. I’m not gonna lie. I’d never felt like that before. My entire body suddenly felt hot and sensitive. This is gonna sound crazy, but it was like there was a glowing ball of fire in the pit of my stomach, which was throwing out energy through my nipples and my balls and my penis. To make matters even more extraordinary, Master Napoli seemed to understand—with infinite precision—where to place his huge hands while I was in the midst of this bizarre state. I was overcome by a feeling of desire.

I looked up into his eyes and my lips instantly started to tingle. I knew it was not my place to kiss him, but I longed to touch his lips with mine. Before I knew it, however, he’d plunged his roving hand down into my underpants and was groping my dick. It stiffened uncontrollably with his touch. I was now helpless to do anything other than let lust surge throughout my body. He asked if I was enjoying it. I lied and said I didn’t know. In reality, it was the most amazing thing which had ever happened to me.

He pulled my garments down and exposed my dick, which was dripping with some kind of clear, sticky liquid. It made me feel a little embarrassed, but he seemed to enjoy touching it and massaging it into other parts of me. Everything he did was exciting beyond words. I found myself looking into his eyes, waiting for the catch, waiting for him to reveal that I’d fallen into his cruel trap and that I’d failed my interview—but he looked back at me with such profound gentleness. To be honest, there wasn’t a single part of me which was able to fight it. I just caved into my base desires.

We locked eyes again and again and I felt my desire reflected in his face. He squirted some sort of oil into his hand and then rubbed it into my dick. The sensation was remarkable—the inside of his fist just slid up and down the shaft. I had no idea that anything could feel that good. He tightened his grip and I felt my body quivering and then springing into life. It was as though he were performing some dark kind of magic on me. His strokes got faster and faster and then I felt one of his fingers entering my hole.

I suddenly lost track of everything. My head was spinning. I started murmuring. Instinctively, I knew something was going to happen to me. I could feel it building. I tried to fight it, but it was inevitable. I felt my legs spontaneously parting. I had this unbelievable desire to spread them wider and wider as the feelings intensified.

He moved behind the chair and untied my hands. As soon as they were released, I found my hand moving towards my penis, wanting to see if my touch down there was as beautiful as his. He pulled one of my legs up into his lap—spreading my legs wider than I’d ever thought possible. I started to rub myself. It felt good. I pumped it harder and faster, looking into his eyes, seeing his beauty, his authority, his lust for me.