Chest and Chamber

Your curiosity always was quite something. You always had to look. You could never be patient. How I remember it so.

Indeed, before long, your hands were scrabbling, looking for the latch that would open the chests and cabinets positioned tastefully across the room, the mirrors reflecting your own hungry search back at you. The clump of heavy wood sliding shut, the soft boom of a chest clamping close. Until, you found what you were looking for. Heaving open a drawer, your eyes glimmer in satisfaction as you find your prize.

Flogs. Whips. Paddles. Canes. Ball-gags. Bridles. Gags. Manacles. Chains. Ropes. Spreader-Bars. Hefty, large candles. Matches. Blindfolds.

All black, glossy, polished, clean. well-organized, and well-prepared.

Whilst on the other side, your eyes swept across to the rest of the collection.

Dildos, plugs, anal beads, cages, hooks. All of manyfold lengths, girths, and sizes.

It really must have been quite expensive. No wonder the drawer was so heavy, though, you did sense you knew you had fond it the second you felt the weight of the drawer.

Though, in the moment, seeing the stock before you, after being cooped up in the car for so long, you felt the temptation to take a prize or two from the wooden chamber before you.