Upon entering, it was certainly a different story. The inside was a no holds back appearance with the name of the establishment written on the opposit... wall with the phrase, “Where you can lose all control here” written underneath it. My girlfriend and I looked at each other and I could tell we were thinking the same thing. Still, we went further inside. The music, provided by some band on a big stage, was loud, but it was good. The band was playing music that everyone could get into and grind. I want him to make me his bitch. "I.. I don't know" I answer, closing my eyes in expectation. SMACK comes the blow, the sound of it echoing in the office. I grunt lustily, wanting to thank him like a slut, but I resist. My ass stings raggedly, and I wonder if he can see my asshole. He can do anything he wants. Laughter and chatting in the studio as the models and crew eat lunch. They have no idea I'm being spanked 20 feet away. Any of them could walk in at any moment."YOUR NAME" he demands, and. He started at his hair; it was typical stereotype Italian black spiked hair. He took very good care of his hair. His eyes being just as dark, matching his hair. His entire face was highlighted by that boyish grin. His shoulder wide and his arms strong. The definition of his chest and abs was extraordinary. His legs were strong with minimum hair. Next he took note of the bulge in his black, mesh, baggy shorts. He tilted his head to the side as he pulled open the waist band of shorts and. Quite somberly he admitted to feeling trapped in an untenable situation. Namely, he could not go out and prowl for women as easily as before, and thus, the frustration. At twenty eight years old, handsome and athletic with a very aristocratic air about him, I wondered if getting his master's degree had caused his head and ego to swell larger than his penis. Mexican machismo incarnate was how I evaluated the situation. "You'll see how much pussy is out here in California, everywhere you.