3.a: The treadmill
Wednesday had come around again. I had gotten a message from Sir to be at his place for one p.m. and I was achingly horny. Besides the fact that I had been locked for a month now, far longer than I ever had been before, I was still feeling the residual excitement from shooting that video in the parking garage on the weekend. So, after doing my blowjob training on my dildo I was ready to go with time to spare.
As usual, I let myself into Sir's apartment and undressed. Once again, there was a buttplug waiting for me on the stand by the entryway. Just as I was completing inserting it, Sir came into the entryway, and I quickly dropped to my knees from my dildo-stuffing squat. He was dressed in sweatpants instead of his usual jeans, and he had a small gym bag in one hand.
"We're going on a field trip," he said, as he stepped past me and opened the apartment's front door. He stepped out and gestured for me to follow. A little nervously, I shuffled out on my knees. He took out his key and locked the door.
"We're going down to the fitness room in the basement," he said. "I'm taking the elevator, but you'll probably want to take the stairs. I'll meet you there." With that he turned and headed toward the elevators.
No time to feel nervous
, I thought to myself. I turned in the opposite direction and started shuffling toward the stairwell door at the end of the hallway. I heard the elevator
ding
behind me, and the doors open and close. I looked behind me -- fortunately, no one had gotten off the elevator, and the hallway was empty.
I stood up and hustled to get the stairwell, feeling a bit of relief at the relative concealment once the door had closed behind me.
Back here again
, I thought, remembering the mission I was given here on my first visit to Sir's apartment. That was only a couple weeks ago, but it felt like a while back now, at the start of this whole new part of my life.
Once more, the trip was easy until I got to the landing before the ground floor. I had to lean down and try and make sure that there was no one coming in or out of the door at the side of the building. It seemed clear, so I hustled to get to the next stairway, which lead to the basement and parking garage.
Reaching the basement, I peeked into the hallway. The coast was clear, so I scurried out. This hallway was narrower than the ones on the apartment floors, with old tiles on the floor instead of carpet, reflecting the uncovered fluorescent tubes above, and rendering everything harsh and bright.
I moved forward. The first door, on the left, had a sign reading STORAGE LOCKERS beside it. A bit ahead on the right was an open door; its sign read LAUNDRY, with the hours listed in smaller type below. I looked in before moving past it, and luckily it was empty. Past the elevators there were a couple unmarked doors, and near the far end of the hallway from where I had entered was another open door. I could see the sign FITNESS ROOM as I approached.
Remembering to drop to my knees, I peeked around the edge of the door and could see Sir, so with some relief I made my way out of the hallway.
What if there had been someone else down here when we arrived?
Maybe he wouldn't have cared.
Seeing me enter, he walked over to the doorway and closed it, offering at least the smallest of warnings if anyone else wanted to have a workout.
I had a second now to take in my surroundings. It was not the sort of high-end fitness facility they were putting in the newer condominium buildings. This looked more like the management company had bought some equipment just so they could brag to prospective tenants that they had a fitness room. There were a couple stationary bikes, a couple treadmills, a desultory weight set and a single pilates ball, with the bulk of the room open, presumably for yoga or other exercises.
My eye caught something in the corner, and my head snapped back as my brain caught up with what I was looking at: it was a CCTV camera taking in the room.
"I wouldn't worry about that," Sir said, following my gaze. "Most places never look at their surveillance footage. I know for a fact that no-one monitors it in this building. It just goes into a laptop... they keep the footage for 21 days, then it's automatically recorded over. Pretty much never gets checked, unless they were looking up a break-in or something. So if you don't hear anything in a couple weeks you'll be fine."
Small assurance!
Still, there was nothing to do about it and surely if anyone did see it, it would make more trouble for Sir, being the tenant there.
While we were on the topic of cameras, I wondered if he would make any comment on my weekend assignments and the video I had sent him, but he just turned away and opened up his gym bag.
"Pull out your buttplug", he said, tossing a towel at me.
As I half-raised myself to pull it out, he had his back to me, standing in front of one of the stationary bikes. A moment later, he gestured me over and I could see what he had been up to: attached to the seat, both with a suction cup and some sort of strap, was a moderately thick dildo. As I shuffled over, he pulled out a tube of lube from his bag and squeezed some on the rubber dong.
"Get on and ride," he said.
I knew what he meant, so I climbed on the bike, and raising my hips, wiggled around until I could feel the dildo between my asscheeks. I carefully lowered myself down, feeling it find the spot of least resistance and slipping into my asshole.
Though I could feel its girth stretching my sphincter, the dildo wasn't particularly long, so I was able to slowly and carefully settle down until I was almost sitting on the seat. My foot shifted and I automatically just started pushing on the pedals, biking to nowhere with a fake cock up my ass.
Just as I was settling in, I felt a stinging
smak!
on my left asscheek. "I said, ride it!" And there was a
smak!
