Aisles and aisles of pet items: collars, leashes, fancy and plain watering and feeding dishes, metal cages and plastic crates, grooming brushes and combs, hairball removers, rawhide bones, flyswatters and training tools and then… the equestrian aisle. i stood there and just gawked, never formally really seeing anything like it.
So there i stood, eyeing some yummy looking metal whipping device, trying to figure out what it was, imagining how it would hurt like a mother fucker and thinking that my Angel would probably not ever allow use of such a thing, for sure it would lacerate and be difficult to withhold really beating the shit out of her, after drooling over wood bits, feather plumes, and all sorts of other equestrian things but always coming back to that metal thing (don’t know what it was but looked like a whipping/ninja thing) and some twenty-year old kid comes up, interrupts my fantasizing gaze as i finally decide to reach out and just stroke it, touch the cool metal, measure the amount of pain this item would cause, how well she could be whipped and trained into shape, the level of damage that would be guaranteed and this kid interrupted my focus by asking if i needed help with anything.
“huh?” i almost felt like he, not to mention the couple sharing the aisle and walking by at this very same time and observing this interaction, understood that i was fantasizing about this odd metal punishment-looking device. It hit me then the substantial amount of meandering i’d done between the two sides of the store: i had spent quite a length of time lusting and fantasizing about the cages, dog grooming items, studded collars and bits as opposed to the nemo fish, talking birds, and display macaw that everyone else was huddling around.
Did i need help?
Yes, but not from him. i needed to be at the giving end of that metal-thing, ordereing around my Angel, whipping her publicly or privately to tears, having her pleasing me and submitting to my cock impaling her.
With a heart racing, palms sweating, ignoring the roar in my ears like a deafening buzz, my voice faltered asking for the bags of sand that led me there, and it felt like everyone was sharing secrets about me in a paranoid way through their intercom things. The store seemed to sway. i flushed very hard.
It felt twice as hot under a tanburn. Doubly as visible.
Knees shaking, hands trembling, paranoia hovering that they had all “discovered” my fantasy session, i wrongfully tore out of that parking lot like i was being chased.
i thought about going back to apologize, felt like i should anyway, and rationalized that it wasn’t that important. i might have if i didn’t believe they all knew what a freak i was to be lusting over dog and horse items in the middle of a garden/animal supply store.
Can’t anyone drool and fantasize in a store with privacy anymore?!