Raunchy Ramble: Late Night Shopping Spree

Curiosity killed the cat, it also led me to buying something I never thought I’d order.

Disclaimer: This post mentions topics involving consensual sexual violence. Not suitable for individuals under eighteen years of age. Reader discretion is advised.

“Good, stay like that. Do you know how much it turns me on when you spread yourself for me?”

I whimpered softly, how could such a wonderful man be so darn evil? Why did he enjoy humiliating me in this way?

There are times lately when I’ve accepted and resigned myself to my fate. I’m His, I accept that. Sir’s, completely. He has trained me, taught me, and in the bedroom, I know that I don’t dare gob off to him.

I remember the last time, and the time before that. I remembered the way he used me until my throat was sore and my face was messy with my own saliva. If I was going to run my mouth, then he would make sure to make good use of it. I’d learned that now. Outside the bedroom I can pretty much do as I want, but in it, the only way out is with my safeword.

In the bedroom I must behave. “Yes, Sir” and “no, Sir” are the only options.

The events of the evening churned around in my mind for hours afterwards. Even with an indulgent feast of Chinese delights consumed and him dozing off on the settee, I couldn’t help but think of a few ways for some fun to be had. Later, I promised myself. Later, I’ll investigate.

Finally settled down in bed, we said our goodnights and I waited for him to sleep. I lay staring at the ceiling for frankly not long at all before I heard him snore. Finally, it was time to do some research.

I opened up the Lovehoney website and took a breath. Was I really willing to do this?

I’d seen spreaders before, but I’d never owned one. A series of bends that fit where only fingers and penises normally go, was I really prepared to venture this far?

Oh Helen, what have you become?

I could see my inner critic shaking her head at me. Gone was the good girl that I used to be, now I am a woman full of wanton, shameless sexual desire, willing to do almost anything in order to rock her socks off. Even my inner critic thought I needed reining in.

But I wasn’t listening. Instead, I looked at her, shrugged apologetically, and carried on with my reading.

Scrolling through some of the reviews, I found my breathing increased as I scoured the words more and more. What was it like? Did it hurt? What did partners think of them? The last thing I wanted to buy was something that boyfriends and husbands were freaked out by.

He loves seeing me spread open..

Those were the words that must have appeared at least six times in the first four pages alone, and those words were the reason I was considering this.

It’s less medical.

Oh, good. Even in spite of my fetish, I wasn’t sure that I was willing to go quite that far.

With pages of reviews read and analysed, my mind was made up. Carpe diem, Helen.

I added the blasted ‘intimate part spreader’ to my basket and moved to check out. 2-3 days delivery. Playtime is Friday. It would never be here on time! Now what? Could I get it one on Amazon Prime?

In the name of my newfound sexual curiosity, I destroyed my fish-food-and-robovacs search history in three simple words. Perhaps fortunately, even Amazon didn’t understand why I wanted my intimate parts spread and suggested a seed spreader instead. That’s a whole different kind of seed, Amazon.

One listing wouldn’t be here until mid-July and I really wasn’t going to wait that long if I didn’t have to. As I moved to click on another listing, two words stood out of the title;

Petal pusher.

Oh, that’s even worse!

Now, not only was my husband humiliating me, but Amazon was joining in on the fun too. In one last blow to what was left to my dignity (and my quest to please my good Sir), I flipped the switch over to Amazon Prime. If I was going to please him, then I needed to receive it soon.

Nothing. I had a choice of mid July or early August. Hopeless!

About to admit defeat and ready to order the spreader for next time, I closed the tab. Just as I was about to settle for the night, one last idea hit me:


I’ve ordered from Bondara not too long ago, and I will be writing a review soon on the pros and cons of shopping from this online budget sex toy store. For now though, Bondara may be the difference between this new adventure and the latest peak of my sexual curiosity, or a lack of adventure and some moderate disappointment. All I could do now, was try.

I typed ‘petal pusher’ once more into the search box and grimaced, Bondara had nothing. Not to be outdone, I tried one more time with ‘spreader’. Bondara found several suggestions, including the ‘Bondara Intimate Pleasure Spreader’. Hesitantly, I clicked on the item.

Oh, what was I about to do?

I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. Was I doing this? Why was I doing this? Why was I really doing this to myself? And perhaps worse, what if we didn’t enjoy the experience?

I wanted pinky-purple but they only had black. Black, I concluded, might look a bit menacing. Appropriate, I also noted, for such a sadistic, menacing person. I glowered at the back of his head for a moment before returning to my shopping. Butt plugs to ring gags and now spreaders – you did this to me!

But I also kind of love you for it.

At an additional £6 cost, I checked out with Guaranteed Special Delivery by 1pm. Normally Royal Mail 48 will do, but I wanted to be sure. With the checkout confirmation on my screen, I placed my phone down by my side and returned to staring wide-eyed at the ceiling until I fell asleep myself. I slept soundly for a full 7 hours and woke this morning to an order update on my phone: Dispatched, it read, in a small, unassuming font.

I felt my breath catch in my throat as I stared at my phone for a moment longer;

What the hell did I just do?









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