anythingulike_69
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Jul 4, 2010
- Posts
- 524
Samantha hesitated, heart pounding, as the heady scent of leather filled her senses. She had never set foot in a shop like this before. For the sake of protecting her reputation, and her secret, she'd never dared. It would be a death blow to her wholesome on-air image to be recognised in a place like this.
The few bondage toys she used to play with had all been discretely ordered online, and sent to an anonymous address, with the exception of a few gifts from Evie. Even online, she'd never spent much time exploring.
Samantha, as a general rule, did not particularly enjoy shopping. Most of the time, the Ice Queen knew exactly what she wanted and she got it. Or sent an assistant for it.
How many times had she sent Everett on a chase? Sent him to waste his time going store to store, or hours searching online, to find the specific jewelry or perfume or wine or shoes or whatever else she had decided she wanted? She shied away from that thought.
If she were to be truly honest with herself, too much time browsing those BDSM shopping sites she had made her purchases at left her… uncomfortable… stirred her arousal and her submissiveness, more than the cold, controlling side of her could stand. She'd rather avoid that. If she didn't look, she didn't have to face what she'd tried so hard to bury deep inside behind thick protective walls of icy disdain.
She took one tiny step, then another, eyes flicking wildly around the room, not sure she felt safe looking at any of it too closely, the hard, icy side of her raging at her to get out of there. This was too much, too deep. Escape. Protect yourself, before it's too late.
Everett squeezed her hand, tugging her forward, and Samantha drew a deep breath, pushing the panic away.
She walked forward, sliding her hand slowly over some heavy wooden stocks. The wood was smooth and cool and so solid. She'd played with self-bondage of course, but never anything like this. Her core turned molten with renewed longing. She could almost feel the thick heavy wood locking her in place… on display… inescapable. Her fingers trembled slightly, as she moved around the corner to the next display.
Anal plugs of every shape and size.
Samantha's ass clenched, an aching twinge reminding her sharply that Everett had fucked it hard last night. Before his thick cock had plowed her ass open, she'd never had anything inside it. Now, suddenly, she could imagine how it would feel to have her ass plugged. Her eyes roved over them… long ones, wide ones, inflatable ones, jewel-tipped… tails? She swallowed. Unicorn tails with long, rainbow tresses. Soft, furry foxtails. Fluffy, round bunnytails. Pink, curled pigtails. All attached to bulbous anal plugs.
She turned away, a fiery blush rising over her cheeks, moving quickly to the next display.
Masks. Lace masquerade masks, leather and feathers. A dark leather half mask, to cover the top of a submissive's head but leave the lower face open. Kitten ears graced the crown and inky lace covered the eye openings, making it somehow playful and seductive at the same time. Beside it, full hoods. Some with eye openings, some with only mouth openings. On the next peg hung a heavy black hood with zippers where eyes and mouth could be concealed or revealed.
Samantha felt her chest heaving, her throat tightening, imagining a hood close over her face. So confined… so vulnerable… her knees almost buckled. She clenched her fingers and moved on, as soon as she could walk steadily.
The scent of leather surrounded her again and she looked up to see a wall display full of riding crops, floggers and paddles. A vivid memory of Everett's belt striping her the night before flashed through her mind's eye. She could imagine the quick, whistling sting of a crop. She shifted her hips, pressing her thighs together.
She reached out hesitantly, not quite touching the floggers' braided leather hilts. So many to choose from. Wide, suede falls for a lovely, deep thud, or narrow, oiled leather tresses for the sharp sting. She could almost feel her backside burn.
She turned to the paddles, some wide and wooden, some leather wrapped. Her fingers stroked over several of them with letters carved into their surface, SLUT in sharp relief on one, BABY on another, imagining the welts they would leave behind.
Samantha swallowed hard and moved on, turning another corner to come upon a huge display of collars. She bit back a tiny gasp, trembling wildly as she stepped closer, unable to resist. Hesitant fingers inched slowly out, caressing the smooth leather here, the soft suede there.
Her eyes locked onto a wide collar of butter-soft red leather, clipped to a short chain lead with a matching red leather handle. A soft whimper of need breathed out without her even being aware of it. So intently focussed on what she was looking at, Samantha never noticed Everett step up behind her.
The few bondage toys she used to play with had all been discretely ordered online, and sent to an anonymous address, with the exception of a few gifts from Evie. Even online, she'd never spent much time exploring.
Samantha, as a general rule, did not particularly enjoy shopping. Most of the time, the Ice Queen knew exactly what she wanted and she got it. Or sent an assistant for it.
How many times had she sent Everett on a chase? Sent him to waste his time going store to store, or hours searching online, to find the specific jewelry or perfume or wine or shoes or whatever else she had decided she wanted? She shied away from that thought.
If she were to be truly honest with herself, too much time browsing those BDSM shopping sites she had made her purchases at left her… uncomfortable… stirred her arousal and her submissiveness, more than the cold, controlling side of her could stand. She'd rather avoid that. If she didn't look, she didn't have to face what she'd tried so hard to bury deep inside behind thick protective walls of icy disdain.
She took one tiny step, then another, eyes flicking wildly around the room, not sure she felt safe looking at any of it too closely, the hard, icy side of her raging at her to get out of there. This was too much, too deep. Escape. Protect yourself, before it's too late.
Everett squeezed her hand, tugging her forward, and Samantha drew a deep breath, pushing the panic away.
She walked forward, sliding her hand slowly over some heavy wooden stocks. The wood was smooth and cool and so solid. She'd played with self-bondage of course, but never anything like this. Her core turned molten with renewed longing. She could almost feel the thick heavy wood locking her in place… on display… inescapable. Her fingers trembled slightly, as she moved around the corner to the next display.
Anal plugs of every shape and size.
Samantha's ass clenched, an aching twinge reminding her sharply that Everett had fucked it hard last night. Before his thick cock had plowed her ass open, she'd never had anything inside it. Now, suddenly, she could imagine how it would feel to have her ass plugged. Her eyes roved over them… long ones, wide ones, inflatable ones, jewel-tipped… tails? She swallowed. Unicorn tails with long, rainbow tresses. Soft, furry foxtails. Fluffy, round bunnytails. Pink, curled pigtails. All attached to bulbous anal plugs.
She turned away, a fiery blush rising over her cheeks, moving quickly to the next display.
Masks. Lace masquerade masks, leather and feathers. A dark leather half mask, to cover the top of a submissive's head but leave the lower face open. Kitten ears graced the crown and inky lace covered the eye openings, making it somehow playful and seductive at the same time. Beside it, full hoods. Some with eye openings, some with only mouth openings. On the next peg hung a heavy black hood with zippers where eyes and mouth could be concealed or revealed.
Samantha felt her chest heaving, her throat tightening, imagining a hood close over her face. So confined… so vulnerable… her knees almost buckled. She clenched her fingers and moved on, as soon as she could walk steadily.
The scent of leather surrounded her again and she looked up to see a wall display full of riding crops, floggers and paddles. A vivid memory of Everett's belt striping her the night before flashed through her mind's eye. She could imagine the quick, whistling sting of a crop. She shifted her hips, pressing her thighs together.
She reached out hesitantly, not quite touching the floggers' braided leather hilts. So many to choose from. Wide, suede falls for a lovely, deep thud, or narrow, oiled leather tresses for the sharp sting. She could almost feel her backside burn.
She turned to the paddles, some wide and wooden, some leather wrapped. Her fingers stroked over several of them with letters carved into their surface, SLUT in sharp relief on one, BABY on another, imagining the welts they would leave behind.
Samantha swallowed hard and moved on, turning another corner to come upon a huge display of collars. She bit back a tiny gasp, trembling wildly as she stepped closer, unable to resist. Hesitant fingers inched slowly out, caressing the smooth leather here, the soft suede there.
Her eyes locked onto a wide collar of butter-soft red leather, clipped to a short chain lead with a matching red leather handle. A soft whimper of need breathed out without her even being aware of it. So intently focussed on what she was looking at, Samantha never noticed Everett step up behind her.