I’ve been accepted as a mafia escort but the role has not been as simple and straightforward as I had assumed it would be. After servicing several mafia leaders to prove that I was serious, and worthy to be in their stable, I was sent away. It was almost a week before the first call came in the form of a text. It was cryptic and vague. It gave an address and a time. It said that I was to meet a priest, Father Zetta, and tell him that “payment is on the way.” It ended with “Make very certain that he is pleased with our arrangement.” My questions went unanswered.
Of course, I assumed that he would want sex, but then he was a priest. I’m not naive enough to think that all priests take their vow of celibacy seriously. I’m not Catholic, though, at least not actively. I’ve never met a priest. I had no idea who he would be, or what would be expected. “Make sure he is pleased.” That was obviously open ended. He was a priest, though, so surely he wouldn’t want that much. I imagined myself on my knees in front of an old man, servicing his half hard cock and wrinkled balls. It made me shiver, but I had agreed to this.
I arrived ...MoreI arrived at the designated place. I loitered in the hall for two minutes in order to ring the doorbell just as church bells down the block chimed the hour. I was shocked when the door opened. The last thing that I expected was the man standing before me. He was in his mid thirties, dark, bearded, his eyes flashed with some emotion I couldn’t define. His body radiated masculinity like a hot stove. I wondered if I was at the right place; at the very least if this was the right man. What had I gotten myself into? Presumably, this rendezvous was supposed to be secret. How much should I divulge? And yet, he was wearing a gold crucifix around his neck. Hesitantly, I asked, “I have a message for Father Zetta?”
The man grabbed my arm tight and roughly pulled me into the apartment, quickly shutting the door behind me. He asked, “Who are you?!” I gave him my name. “No!I mean who sent you? Why are you here?” I repeated the text word for word. He visibly relaxed but it was clear he didn’t trust me.
There was a change in him, though. I could see the inscrutable look in his eyes resolve into something that I knew well. Desire. His posture changed as well, from a man ready to defend his life to that of a sexual beast. He made me think of a prowling black panther. It was my turn for my guard to be raised. Of all the things that I had imagined, this was not one of them. He was the polar opposite of the old man that I half expected, but neither was he a guilt ridden closet queen drooling over the opportunity to have a naughty moment of forbidden pleasure.
Father Zetta was something else entirely. He demanded that I undress and my suspicions were confirmed that he wanted sex. I would have been overjoyed, this a man for whose dick I would have happily begged, if it weren’t for my precarious circumstances. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I belonged to the mafia. I had no illusion of my worth to them, but I knew that if any harm came to me, they would consider it an act of gross disrespect toward themselves, and respond accordingly.
Once I was naked, Father Zetta walked around me appraising and appreciating my body. He grunted his approval and I relaxed another fraction. He made no move to take off his own clothes. He simply pulled a large, uncut, very hard cock from his pants, and forced my head down to it. As I eagerly took it into my mouth, his hand never left my head and he began fucking into my throat, not caring if I had a gag reflex or not. I’m a well trained cock sucker but I couldn’t help but choke as his fat monster plunged into my throat over and over.
He stopped to let me breathe, kissed me hard, and then spit into my mouth, something that I’ve rarely experienced before. It was then that I knew I was in for a hard ride. This was no holy man, despite the crucifix around his neck. He took control of my body, using me to satisfy his burning desires like a sex toy; alternately pounding his cock into both of my holes until I could hardly stand it, smothering my cries of pleasure/pain with his strong hand. I was on my back with my hips in his firm grasp when he finally had his fill of me and he bred my ass deep with his seed. Then he plunged his fingers into my bruised and battered hole, digging his cum back out, and feeding it to me as if in some perverse act of communion, in which I willingly partook.
Milo is a graduate of MIT and a successful businessman in his early twenties. He made good money, had plenty of friendships, and was truly living the American Dream. Then one day, Milo woke up and realized that in spite of all of the success and achievements, he was quite depressed.
Milo saw a future that added up to 60 hour work weeks, endless stressful deadlines, and mingling with the fake yuppies of his generation. This just would not do. Milo wanted more than anything else adventure and the thrill of the unknown. Milo wanted to be bad.
And so Milo quit his job, sold his possessions, said goodbye to his family and friends- then found the Mafia individual known as ‘Mr. Fros’ who lived in Europe. Milo spent every last cent he had left to get to where Mr. Fros invited him to meet up- to see if Milo had what it took to be initiated into the Cabal.
Born and raised in a conservative Catholic family, Nico followed in his uncle’s footsteps and became a priest for the mighty Church. Now known as Father Zetta, the tall, dark, serious priest has made secret connections with the local Mafia.
In exchange for “favors” within the inner workings of the Church, Father Zetta would be supplied with a young man to “entertain” him in his private quarters. A repressed gay man, Father Zetta does feel the stain of sin in his heart, but when an irresistible twink comes knocking on his door...
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