Holly's Bag of Toys

The hotel was in the middle of the city, had underground parking, and was big enough to be perfectly anonymous. She parked, headed up in the lift to reception, and went straight to the desk, letting the soft beige leather holdall she carried swing gently.

Reception had a key for her "left by her husband" who'd checked in earlier and "gone out to meetings". She made polite chat, saying they were heading out to dinner later and taking the obligatory pitch for the hotel's restaurant. She headed up to the tenth floor in the lift as fast as she could get away, admiring herself in the mirrors, she'd absolutely nailed the look.

Hair down and held back with a band, oversized sunglasses, a belted tan coat that came to mid-thigh, and short boots. The holdall could be an expensive gym bag or a quirky weekend bag. To any passing glance, she looked like a perfectly respectable well-heeled lady, maybe away on a midweek break with her husband traveling for work.

Nothing could be further from the truth. He wasn't her husband, he was her master. Her husband was out at work and thought she was away at a spa day, due to get back late than evening after "a few drinks out". She wasn't traveling, this was her home city. They absolutely were not going out later.

She let herself into the room, checking her phone to see how much time she had. He would be early, he always was, trying to catch her on the hop, any excuse to spank her or have her make amends.

She made herself ready, folding her clothes into the wardrobe so there was no mess, putting her phone on silent but not airline mode, in case he texted through instructions, and having a small vodka from the minibar to settle her nerves. She had followed his instructions to the letter she knew, but she didn't know what he had planned.

It all started with an email a few weeks ago, seeing if she was free that afternoon. She made sure she was, it had been too long. The next email mentioned "her old leather bag" and whether or not she still had it.

She did.

"And is it still full of tricks" he had asked. She knew that he knew that it would be.

In her younger and more single days, when they first met, she'd kept all her sex toys and paraphernalia in the bag for ease.

It sat in the bottom of her wardrobe and nobody ever looked twice at it. When she headed out to dirty parties or to meet somebody it came with her, its content carefully selected.

That was all long ago, and for the last five years, it has been put quietly out of the way in the garage only occasionally to get thrown in the car and come out, on days like this.

She hears the door lock click, and as she expected he's early. She drops the bag on the bed and quickly kneels down, looking up expectantly as he strides in, dropping his far more formal bag as he does, and comes to stand in front of her, his shined black shoes and neat suit trousers filling her view.

"Good afternoon Holly, you fabulous fuck toy, did you manage to get time to prepare yourself or are we going to have to go over all that tiresome rubbish again?"

He wants her to squirm and panic, but she's played this game before.

Today she isn't going to be bratty just to solicit a spanking, she's going to be a good girl, the consummate slut.

"Yes sir, everything is here and I had plenty of time in this loved suite to get ready."

She can't help sounding that little bit bratty.

"Good good. I did actually have to go out to meetings this afternoon and deal with enough fuckups, I've not time for you to be forgetting things and not paying attention. Now, stand up, let's have a look at you!"

She stands and adjusts her position. Shoulders square, back straight, feet neatly together, hands behind her back, she looks up into his face as he pointedly looks her up and down, inspecting her. It's obvious he likes what he sees.

Under that coat she had a pair of trousers, now folded and put away, but otherwise she's dressed as she'd driven here. The boots lift her a few inches. The anklet is subtle but the gold "slut" tag hanging off it is not. Her legs are bare and run up to her well-shaped arse. She's not wearing any knickers. A dark blue corset trims her waist in and shows off her tits. Her neck is bare because she knows he will collar her and she's left her hair down to help maintain the innocent look, rather than tieing it back into a fuck handle of a ponytail.

"I see you've dressed for the occasion. Did you drive over in all that slut wear or did you come dressed as a respectable wife and mother and get changed once you got here?"

"I did wear a pair of trousers, but other than that, I came dressed like this."

She can't help sounding proud and biting her lip a little.

"No jumper? Just that tan coat of yours to cover up all this lingerie?"

She knows that he knows that she loves hiding in plain sight in public.

"No jumper"

"Good girl. Now, let's see what else you've brought in that old kit bag of yours."

He turns her to face the bed, standing close behind her and she unzips the bag.

"Don't just empty it out in a big heap you messy bitch, take things out one at a time and tell me about them."

She knows what this game is, he's going to try and embarrass her, make her confess, and build up the tension until he's straining against his boxers and she's melting into a puddle in front of him.

She reaches into the bag, carefully lifting out her collar and holding it up in front of her.

"And what's this then?" He asks like he's never seen it before.

"It's my posture collar sir. It's much taller and stiffer than my usual collar so it keeps my head up making it difficult to move." She explains, orientating the collar so it's the right way up and then offering it to him. She chose it first, suspecting what was going to happen.

"Well, that is very pretty. I rather enjoy your bare neck, it's so much easier to wrap my hands around, but maybe you'd prefer this leather thing squeezing you instead?"

"I do love my collar, it reminds me where I am and what I'm doing." She hands the collar to him and without a word he slips it around her neck, moving her hair out of the way and fastening the buckles behind her neck. It keeps her chin up and she can't look down into the bag anymore.

"That is pretty, it does make your neck stand out, does it? All the better for wrapping my arms around." He threatens her, and she feels herself damped at the very thought of his arm, sleeves rolled up, holding her against him as she struggles.

"What else is in there then? Such a big bag for one collar."

She reaches in again, moving things around and trying to choose carefully. There are so many things that she wants to pull out and show off.

She chooses a set of four leather cuffs, clipped together, and holds them up.

"I know what these are no need to explain them, but why are they all attached to that single metal ring?" He asks, faining innocence.

"They're my ankle and wrist cuffs, Sir. The bigger ones go round my ankles and the slimmer ones go round my wrists. Then when you're being very mean, you can put me face down and hogtie me by clipping them all together. It's a big stretch for me and it aches, but I can't close my legs and can't stop you getting at my pussy even if I wanted to."

She knows it's the truth because she spent far too long like that having her face fucked and a massive dildo shoved up her last summer. They both remember it fondly.

"I guess we'd better buckle you in, we wouldn't want to have them lying around making a mess would we?"

He takes the cuffs and bends to strap them around her ankles, not connecting them but leaving them free. She holds up first one wrist and then the other and he repeats the process.

"So far humdrum. I've seen collars and cuffs all over the internet. I thought you said this was your bag of naughty things? This is all barely fifty shades of Ann Summers so far." He tries to sound bored and doesn't quite get away with it.

She reaches into the bag again and pulls out a set of anal beads. They're stiff plastic, starting small and getting bigger, but even the largest one is still quite modest. They're faded pink and have a ring on the end. She holds them up, her finger curled through the ring.

"Come on them, tell me about these them." He tells her firmly. He's expecting her to narrate the content of the bag, squirming as she's made to say dirty things and confess.

"These are my anal beads Sir. They're not too big and they're stiff so they're easy to work up my arse. I really like to be fucked with them Sir, and feel my arsehole stretching around them and they are pulled in and out."

"That sounds like you've had that happen quite a few times slut, how many times have these been stuck up your shitter?"

He is trying to catch her out with his course language. This is a man who works with words for a living, he knows exactly what he is doing. The school gate yummy mummy shouldn't be thrilled to hear about her arsehole let alone have it described as "her shitter", but she is.

"I've no idea, Sir. Many many times." She decides to step up her game, "I like it best when I'm being DPd with a big cock and the beads at the same time".

She lies the beads on the bed, starting a lineup of toys. She didn't think he'd use them on her straight away like the cuffs and collar, and she guessed right.

He moves his hands to her waist and pulls her closer, she wiggles her bum against him just a little.

"What's next from bag, what other filthy toys have you brought?" He responds to her wiggles with a stern voice, as if she's messing about, even if his cock tells a different story.

She feels around again, choosing what to ignore, and pulls out a large purple pillar candle. It's as wide as her fist and wrapped in a piece of cloth to keep the wax off the rest of the toys.

"This is my punishment candle Sir. It melts quickly when you light it and it makes big pools of wax. I hate it when it's dripped on me, it stings and it's no fun at all." She pouts and hopes it comes across in her voice. Hot wax is not her thing and he knows it.

He stays silent.

"Once when I was very bad, you covered my tits with wax and then used a riding crop to beat it off with Sir. I hated every minute of it."

"And what did you learn that day?"

"That I should say no politely and try my hardest even if it's something I don't really like Sir."

"There's a good slut. I enjoyed punishing you, maybe even more than I would have enjoyed watching you lick that other girl's arsehole."

She puts the candle down on the bed and hopes it doesn't get touched again. She did bring matches though, because she did not want to be punished for not being organised enough to be punished. His left hand has drifted to groping her and his right sits tantalizingly close to her pussy mound but she knows there's a lot more to go before he actually touches her properly.

She reaches into the bag and pulls out her wand, pulling all the wire out with it, and holds it up like the Olympic torch.

"This is my favorite vibrator Sir! I always get off, it's so big and strong and powerful. I love that it needs plugging in, it makes it feel so... industrial Sir!"

He does not say anything as she lies the wand down in line, but his right hand slides just that little bit closer.

Next from the bag is a classic red ballgag.

"This is my ballgag sir. I love how I look in it, like those girls on the Internet. It's big enough to make me stretch my mouth and it makes me drool a lot."

"And what's the worst thing about it toy?"

"I can't wear it and suck cocks, sir. Wearing makes me so horny, and all I want to do is suck on your dick, but I can't Sir, it's so frustrating."

He knows this. He's done it to her umpteen times, strapping it into her mouth and then rubbing his cock on her face until she almost cries with frustration. She does look very pretty though with her jaw stretched right out and her eyes pleading.

The ball gag joins the lineup.

She reaches in again the the still full bag and chooses something different, a plain wooden kitchen spoon.

"What's this fuck toy, and you planning on doing some baking! Knocking up some buns for us?" He's goading her and she decides to step to it.

"No you silly oaf, it's a spanking spoon. It's light and wide and really stingy when I get beaten with it. Sometimes I do leave it in the kitchen drawer though just so I get to see it and only I know what it is."

"Silly oaf! Don't think you can get away with that young lady!" He pushes her forward over the bed, holding her face sideways with the palm of his hand and taking the spoon from her hand.

"Please, sir! Don't leave me too bruised! I don't want to have to explain them to my husband!" She pleads with him, knowing that if push comes to shove she can explain away a lot of things with "a rough deep tissue massage" but maybe not if they're spoon-shaped bruises.

"You should have thoughts of that before you teased me then, shouldn't you. Now, what room number is this?"

"23 Sir," she answers truthfully, and then "Room 23 on the 10th floor!" Adding in the extra, and lower, number. He doesn't take the bait.

"23 it is then," he says and quickly starts to rain the blows down on her bare arse. He doesn't put any weight behind the stokes, they are light and quick and sting like fuck. She gasps and yelps, squirming under the rapid assault.

The 23 are over and done with before they've started and her head is spinning a little. He takes his weight off her and helps her up, quickly pulling her back against him, pressing her throbbing bottom against his straining cock.

The wooden spoon is added to the line-up, but the threat is still there.

She decides to get all the impact toys out quickly, betting that he won't beat her again quickly, and is careful not to be cheeky. As her pulls each one out, describing it and answering questions about when and how, and how many, his right-hand finds her pussy and starts to very gently and lightly rub her. She wiggles and squirms where she stands, desperate to free his cock and play with it.

A paddle is followed by a ping pong bat, a wooden ruler, the dreaded plastic cane, the heavy suede flogger, her old-fashioned hairbrush, and a wide wooden rod that she found in an antique shop and scared her to think about. When she sees them all lined up she realises quite how many toys she owns with the express purpose of threatening and hurting her.

She fucking loves the idea.

Last in the lineup of impact toys is a dog toy. Specifically an 18-inch blue plastic Kong toy, with ridged balls the size of golf balls at either end connected by a stiff ridged shaft.

"And what the fuck is that? Are we going to play fetch?" He asks.

He's not seen this before. She only bought it last week, unable to resist slipping into the weekly grocery shop and then forgetting to give it to the dog. It terrifies her and she decides not to be cheeky.

"I just got it, Sir. I think I might enjoy being beaten with it and maybe," she stutters, for the first time actually a little embarrassed, "and maybe fucked with it, Sir."

"It is big and cock shaped isn't it. Give it here."

He holds his hand out and reluctantly she hands it over. He experimentally gave it a wave, noticing its lack of flex.

"Yes, I can imagine stuffing that right up your cunt. I wonder how much of it you could take? Maybe if you don't take at least say, 8 inches, I'd beat you with it."

The Kong goes on the bed, right at the end of the line of punishment toys. It stands out, it's incongruence marking it out. She can't help looking at it.

Next from the bag, whilst is getting increasingly empty, is an inflatable gag.

"When I want to feel really full, I put this in my mouth and I pump it until I'm almost sick. I can feel my cheeks bulging out and I have to breathe through my nose and it's like I'm deep-throating a massive cock, Sir." She can't help thinking of the last time this happened, knowing that she's done this to herself in combination with the remaining things that will come out of the bag.

She places the gag on the bed on the other side of the bag, the array of filthy things now taking up far too much room.

Next up is a simple blindfold. She holds it up without explanation and he takes it.

"I think maybe this is a good place to start isn't it slut?"

"Yes Sir. I love being blindfolded not knowing who or what's coming Sir."

He slips the blindfold over her eyes and after he has he starts to work his fingers over her pussy with more focus and rhythm. He's obviously starting to build up to fucking her, one step at a time, not that she's so hot and frustrated, her head full of the images of each of those toys in the past.

He slides the blindfold over her eyes and almost immediately dips a finger into her, rubbing her wetness against her pussy, returning just the first inch of his finger to her and ever so slowly starting to finger her properly.

"So, what's left in there Holly, that bag seems pretty empty to me."

She reaches in, fumbling a bit in the darkness, trying not to break his contact, and pulls out the only thing that's left. She'd not brought everything with her, and she'd toyed with leaving this out, but it's been so long since that day that we blindfolded herself, pumped the gag up as much as she dared, and then spent an hour edging herself as she worked the last toy deep into her.

"These are my massive anal beads Sir. They so big they look like they'll never fit, but they're a little bit squashy and with plenty of lube and warming up I've got every one of them up my arse Sir."

She holds them up, unable to see them and overcompensating, holding them up high. They're black latex, shiny clean, and almost comic in size. Each of the 8 balls is a couple of inches wide, separated by a couple of inches of narrow tube. Squeezing the ball she's holding like a stressball she demonstrates that they have a little give, just enough to make easing them in and out achievable.

"Well those are impressive, aren't they! However did you stuff those up that pert little arse of yours?" He actually sounds impressed. She knows he's not seen these before.

"First I used my finger, and then the small anal beads until I was used to something being deep. When I was ready I lubed up the first one and kept the pressure on my arsehole as I rubbed my clit and eventually, it slid right in Sir." She's breathless with pride telling him and his fingering has increased in speed.

"Once the first one was in I just kept doing the same thing, pushing them in slowly. I could feel them filling me up from the inside sir, I could feel them through my pussy walls like a big ridged dick Sir! I got all eight in and then used my wand until I came, pulling them out one after the other as I did."

"And how hard did you cum, you dirty little slut?"

"Very hard Sir. Between the inflatable gag and the blind fold and the wand and my arse being absolutely stuffed full of those balls, it was hard not to pass out Sir."

"Oh, so you were blindfolded and gagged at the time were you? Anything else to mention?"

"It was a Tuesday afternoon and I was home alone and horny Sir." She lies about the day. Today is Tuesday. Who knows what day it was?

"And afterward sir, I..." she stumbles.

She hadn't planned on saying this last bit. She still can't believe she did it, but she'd seen it on the internet once too many times and she acted on instinct. She knew that porn pros douched a million times before scenes and she hadn't but when that last ball shot out and he recovered from the orgasm she'd unfastened the gag and slipped the last bead, the one that had been deepest in her, into her mouth and sucked it clean.

She tells him all of this.

His left hand is inside her corset now, squeezing her left tit, mauling it in his big strong hand, and with a remarkable demonstration of dexterity, his right hand was working her faster and faster, alternating between being in her and rubbing her. He was a skilled mother fucker, literally. As she confesses to the most filthy thing she's probably ever done, he's practically growling in her ear.