Shopping Sprees.

My wife lets me do the shopping, for a couple of reasons. 

First, toys are going to be used on me.  The strap-on, she signed off on it, but really, her attitude is that it’s going up my ass, so I should pick it out.  We went to a fetish store for a lot of other things — her first corset, shackles, handcuffs — and the rest of it we had picked up in local stores, like the dog collar and the little tag on it that says whose property I am.    

Like good little perverts, we’re adding to our toychest.  She got a PO Box — just in case her family snoops through her mail — and wending their way to her are our first ball gag, gaily colored because happy colors make me more comfortable while I’m getting hurt; our first flogger, again, in a nice purple; and two beautiful outfits.