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Come down to The Sanctuary, now.
-Sven
Sticking to the bike lane, I rode out to The Sanctuary, hoping the message meant that I was to be a booty call in the most literal sense of the phrase.
Two vans stood against my dreams, crowding the space in front of the building. Still, my master had called, so I had obeyed. I waited until they passed so that I could cut through and park my bike. Then I went in.
“In here,” Sven said, opening the door to the booth.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Sit.”
I dropped, wincing only slightly from the added pressure. Through the glass I could see Dante Street Massacre rigged up and ready to go. They were a bit before my time, but Seth had insisted I listen to the label’s entire back catalogue when I was hired. One track per band, at least to start, had been emailed to me as MP3s. It wasn’t long before I was asking for the vinyls.
“What’s going on?” I asked Sven.
“Acoustic track. I need you to watch things as I fill in with the band.”
“Okay.”
Rolling to the console, I took a deep breath and remembered my training. It was kind of head-first but basically what I’d spent the past few years training for. The desk assistant job was more of a stop gap.
Sitting among the recognized players, Sven picked up a guitar. The third vocalist, who also served as lead guitarist, focused on vocals for the studio.
“Ready,” Sven announced.
I hit record and the magic happened. My focus was more on Sven than the levels he’d entrusted me with.
I had to admit I was creaming in my panties as he played, his fingers moving faster than should be possible. He was hitting every note just right, as though he’d written the song. Probably because he had, at least in part. His name would no doubt later be listed in the liner notes, the band extending him a “special thanks.”
Bidding the band adieu, he came back into the booth, greeting me with a tender kiss, one hand going right for my left tit. They were all for him, after all.
“That was amazing,” I managed, again able to breathe, once I got over the gentle massage that he was giving the flesh of my breast, and then my nipple.
“It’s what I do,” he said, sounding more Zen than falsely humble.
I was soon lifted like levitation as he placed me back on my feet, turning me toward the studio wall. His hands hard on my hips, all it took was one jerk and I was over, hands against the soft foam. Slow and gentle, my panties came down, hooked off over Gen’s Docs.
Every little bit helped, the plug coming out like the tide, slow and gentle. Sven really knew how to handle me, with everything he did feeling like a small blessing. I reached back and spread my ass cheeks, hoping that was where he was going.
“What are you doing?”
“I—”
“You want me to fuck your ass?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“In good time, my pet. You need more preparation. First though, I am going to have to punish you for your presumption.”
“Yes, Sir,” I acquiesced, preparing myself for the worst.
Pulling my hair, grabbed from the root, he yanked back on my head, making me look to the ceiling. The first strike was unseen before it landed on my ass, bringing up a yelp. It wasn’t a scream, though.
The spank hurt but he was still being gentle. If he decided to, Sven could have me in a world of hurt. It just wasn’t his style.
More hard strikes, the top of his fingers going in a downward motion, made me jerk and yelp helplessly under his hand.
He kept going, striking and stroking, stroking and striking, until my knees had turned to jelly. Sven’s arm around my waist was the only thing keeping me up.
After putting me on my knees, he let me rest, giving gentle strokes and licks to the affected area. Then his attentions soon moved southward. His licks were hard and his fingers were gentle as he worked my pussy to orgasm on the thin rug of the studio booth.
When I could walk again, he set things back right, not putting the plug back in. At least not right then. Part of the fun was when it came out, not knowing if or when it would be slid back in. My good master was holding dominion over my ass, as with the rest of me.
In the car, I sat on an extra cushion he kept in the back. My e-bike was once again stowed in the trunk. I didn’t have to ask where we were going. I would follow him anywhere. Besides, I already knew.
With my bike still in the back, my master carried me up the stairs to the red painted door. The entrance to his bedroom was just a little further beyond. First into the tub, warm water eased everything as Sven washed me all over.
