Sex toys from a stranger

This is a true story with three very different sections. First is an explanation of how I came to be performing the way I was in the third, and between them is how I physically prepared myself for that. Part one tries to show my meandering thought processes and the reasoning I had in accepting what was being offered. Part three is getting out and about in my neighbourhood — and some might want to skip down to that section!

As well as novels and short stories I also write about myself and my life — generally the sexier parts, of course! On Twitter, I’m happy to talk about most things that crop up in my stories, and one man on there asked me about my interest in bondage.

This was fair enough as a number of my true stories feature it to some degree. We carried on a discussion on the Direct Messaging section and, in the course of that, he mentioned a particular sex toy. I said that it sounded interesting and that I’d maybe put it on my wish list.

He replied saying that he’d love to buy it for me from there.

I had to hurriedly explain that my wish list was a thing in my head and had no physical reality! The idea of someone, other than my current partner, actually buying me sex toys was a bit… well, weird really! In fact, it was very weird!

We talked it over, with me saying that I was just a normal girl that happened to write erotic stories and enjoy some self-bondage and nudity. I was fine talking about some sex subjects online, as there is no threat there, but I wasn’t used to people offering to buy me things to insert in my body for sexual purposes!

He explained that, while he had a day job, he also spent a lot of time as a photographer and especially of models in some form of bondage. He was used to many of these girls having actual lists of toys and clothing for their friends to buy for them. This was normal where he came from and in the world that he operated.

I want to apologize for making you feel uncomfortable. That was not my intent. Yes, I flow in slightly different circles where there are a lot of people who have Amazon lists posted on their bio.

This went back and forth a little as we straightened out the misunderstanding. That section of the conversation ended with my saying that I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea — but if he wanted to ‘buy me a coffee’ or support me on the Medium website by taking out a subscription, then I was fine with that. I’d joined the coffee thing so that people could support me, if they liked my stories, in a way other than buying the next one. Sex toys though…!

The whole thing had blown my mind. That there were girls out there who were happy with men buying them sex toys. That this was a real thing and not some scuzzy porn trope. I needed to talk a little about it and so posted on Twitter saying that this had happened and what did people think.

While waiting for replies, I tried to work through my feelings. If a stranger “bought me a coffee” online as thanks, then great. If they did that in real life, then great. Probably. Depending on the circumstances. Sex toys though, that’s a whole different thing to me. A boundary that I’d not even known existed was being crossed.

This wasn’t quite the boundary I’d been thinking though. I’d been processing this as him doing this as thanks for my stories, but that wasn’t the case. This was following a talk about bondage — this was two friends chatting and one offering to get the other something. Was that better or worse than thanks for good writing?

The item he was talking about was a set of connected balls that fit in your pussy and move around as you do. Ben Wa (or Wah) balls, sometimes called Kegel Balls. The ones he was talking about had an inner core that also moved and, being joined together, the two outer balls also tugged on each other. This double tugging keeps the whole set-in constant motion.

This all sounded fascinating in truth. I’d once had a single egg that went inside me (long since lost somewhere in a house move — although I’ve no idea how that managed to disappear!). That had been interesting, but this sounded much more so.

The question then is whether I would feel comfortable putting this inside me knowing that a man I’d never met was paying for it. This would hopefully last for years, and each time I pushed it in, and throughout the excitement generated by wearing it, I’d be thinking, on some level, of J who had suggested, paid for, and sent it to me.

Twitter came back entirely positive about the matter. This is a relatively normal thing, they said. People like to buy things for others. It is all anonymous through your wish list, so there is nothing to worry about there. And why not?

Why not indeed. If someone wants to buy you something then are you not being a spoilsport by not letting them? People want to show appreciation in different ways. Some say thank you, some buy coffee, some more books… and some want to buy you a special gift. And why not!

I have to admit that there is a world of difference to me in whether someone wants to purchase a bottle of wine or something to go in my pussy — but I see the logic in what is being said. This man is involved in bondage on a regular basis and, after talking about that subject together, he wanted to extend the hand of friendship with a gift. Isn’t that reasonable?

Yes. Yes, it is. But it is still weird for a ‘normal’ person like me that has not come near this thing before. I contacted him again and apologised for the lack of grace on my part in being hesitant in accepting his kind offer of a gift — and then did so. I told him about my aversion to photographs — and have written about the reasons for that on Medium — and that he wouldn’t see this toy in action. However, I did offer to write up whatever happened just for him — or to post online generally. He was absolutely fine with that.

I do not feel like I’m getting the short end of the stick not getting photos. I would much rather read your thoughts and experiences. That is actually something I have been trying to do with my models and I’ve had a lot of difficulty. I would like them to write me feedback of what they thought about the outfits filmed them in, the ties I performed on them, and their overall emotions and experiences during the shoot. Were the ties uncomfortable, did they feel they could be tighter, did they enjoy the helplessness, just getting their visceral response would be immensely pleasurable for me.

His being in North America, and my being in the UK, caused a minor problem as, if I used his normal store to create a wish list, he’d need to pay P&P almost equivalent to the purchase price of the gift. I use Amazon for a number of things and so said that I’d create a list on the UK version and send him a link.

My mental wish-list had not had any Kegel balls on it, but those were now the first items added to the online listing I created. The things I’d been going to get ‘one day’ were then added as, while I was doing this, I might as well put them on and get them from my head and onto this madness I was making for a stranger.

I needed new steel handcuffs, and lockable leather ankle cuffs went nicely with them. Some nice fishnet body stockings. A set of thong panties — crotchless — and most having pearl beading that would run between my parts. A good set of anal beads. A body harness — this had a collar with a stiff piece running down the back for the hands to lock into and restrain them out of the way.

Collars. I didn’t have a collar, as most of my bondage had been my doing it to myself, and, while a collar could be used there, it was also a symbol of submission that I didn’t currently need. I wanted one though. I am a submissive and love the idea of being held in a collar in that way. I wasn’t ready for the whole ‘collaring’ ceremony or anything, but the idea of submitting to my man as he put it around my neck was damn sexy!

First, I saw a collar with a lead. This spoke to many of my kinks. I had no one that wanted to lead me around in this way, but it would be humiliating, absolutely humiliating, even indoors at home. And the thought of this taking place outside somewhere made me wet. I had to put this on the list and find a way to use it somehow if it ever got bought.

Next in the collar line was a simple one that came with nipple clamps on a chain. I had normal clips but these could be tightened yourself for extra effect. And, as they came attached to the collar, and the chains would be fairly obvious leading down, that just added to things. Another collar with a built-in O-ring gag, one with a lock, and then a tall leather posture collar were all added as well.

That was more than enough in that one area of the site, so I looked more widely. A leather corset with a skirt, a new vibrating dildo, a full face & head mask (as loss of sensory perception could be interesting, and I often used ear plugs and a face mask for that purpose), and then long cotton ropes for bondage.

Later on, I would come back and add a butt plug with a tail. Finally came wine & chocolates. After all, didn’t I deserve to be wined and treated before getting used for bondage or sexual purposes — even if it would only be in people’s heads and not in real life!

I sat back and looked over the whole list. That this sort of stuff was all available on a mainstream website should have told me that it was normal, but I’d spent my whole life hiding this side of life away from others and never meeting anyone that used such things. I still felt weird, and more than a little dirty, just looking at them online, let alone putting this sort of list together knowing that I might be sharing it with a stranger.

I don’t think there would be any stigma attached to posting your list if you wanted to. But only if you wanted to. People are not obligated to look at the list or buy anything from the list. Some people just like to do it out of appreciation.

Now though, now the only question was did I do this? Did I follow through on the discussion and send a stranger a list of sexual toys and clothing that I liked the look of? That I wanted on me, or in me? That was madness! To show this man — a nice man it seemed, but still one I’d never met and hardly talked to even online — my sexual likings and perversions was very different than writing something in the form of an erotic story.

This was real life.

I hit send.

Of course, I instantly regretted it. If there had been a way to recall it then I’d have done so, and then agonised again about what to do. There wasn’t though. This was gone through the ether and would be read by this man. I’d be judged by him — or at least it felt that way. He seemed to know a lot more than I did about this sort of thing, and to be very open to discussing it. What is weird for one person can be normal for another, and so it proved here.

In addition to the balls I am planning on the collar and clamps. I understand that photos will not be forthcoming but I do hope to read about your adventures with them. Your gift address is listed as Glasgow so I am envisioning you wearing a kilt skirt, white tights, and a cable knit sweater with the balls nestled in snuggly, maybe a discrete crotchrope for added friction, and the collar and clamps under your sweater as you go about your day or for a walk in the country. My understanding is that walking gives a wonderful sensation that is augmented when heels are worn due to the way heels make the hips sway. You have a great imagination and I am sure you will come up with something.

Oh. Bloody. Hell. Not only was he going to get me the balls that had started this, but the collar and nipple clamps as well. I’d be collared by this man — at least in some way. I’d not really considered his buying other things from the list, but that was what they were there for in some sense. I’d still been thinking of this as ‘my’ wish-list though, and not that of whoever wanted to look at it. This was all getting a bit real.

I thanked him kindly for what he was doing but didn’t mention my ongoing misapprehension about this whole thing. I’d do as I said — I always follow through as it is part of my personality to do so — but that didn’t stop me from having the jitters. The ‘what’ I did would be under my control, but now having two items upped the stakes, in my head at least.

Looking up how to tie a crotchrope might give you added stimulation under your skirt with those spheres rolling around inside.

No kidding! I had a cotton rope, but had used it for very simple tying myself up, rather than for the sort of ornate thing that it seemed was common in BDSM. I’d never attempted a crotch rope and needed to Google some interesting websites to work out how best to do so. And, of course, this put a number of new ideas into my head, things that would be tricky to work through by myself.

My other half was going out early to meet friends and to bring them back to stay with us for the weekend, so first thing on Saturday morning was going to be the only space I had for several days. I showered and shaved. Shaved completely. Legs, landing strip tidied, and then armpits. If I was going to do this, then I wanted to feel at my best and getting everything neat and tidy was a part of that.

While still in the nude, I stood in front of the mirror and brushed out my hair. I knew where I was going and wanted a particular look. I put my shoulder-blade length hair into pigtails at each side, coming down over my ears rather than at the back. As part of this, I braided in a strip of tartan ribbon in each, to match the kilt I’d be putting on, and tied the ribbon off into a bow.

The moment of truth came with me sitting naked on my bed. I could still pull out of this. Just tell him that, while I was grateful for the gifts, I was no longer willing to perform in this way — not that he’d demanded it or anything — and that no story would be forthcoming.

I couldn’t though. It wasn’t just that I’d said I would, but I was getting excited about it as well. I’d opened the packages when they arrived, to make sure they were what it said on the boxes. Now sitting with the balls in my hand, I knew that I wasn’t going to need much in the way of lube from a bottle to insert them. I was producing my own.

Letting them roll a little on my palm I could feel the internal mechanism keeping them moving. They were silicone on the outside, as was the cord joining them and the one to pull to get them back out. Okay, Dianne, say thanks to J for the gift, take a deep breath and get on with it!

I’m a small girl and, even taking that into account, think that I’m also small down there. Legs spread, I applied a little lube and then used one set of fingers to pull myself apart and the other to push the toy through my opening. Cold and a tight fit, but a pleasant enough sensation as the first ball went in, quickly followed by the other. The small lead to tug on to help get them out again seemed a strange item to be hanging out of me though as I looked down.

Although keen to move around with them inside me, and see what it was like, I’d resisted trying that out during the week — I wanted this first try to be the real one. For that reason, I put on the white tights (although I prefer black myself) and then moved straight onto the rope work to seal the balls in.

I had practised this a few times and now no longer needed to keep checking the video online as I had at first. Knickers had never been mentioned and so would be skipped as they didn’t seem suitable here anyway. In theory, the nylon of the tights was supposed to help stop the rope from rubbing the skin and irritating it. We’d test that.

At its most basic it was a relatively simple looping around the waist, and then two strands come down the front and up the back to be tied on. The reality was a bit different. The cords down the front pressed the tights through my labia so that I needed to spread them a little, leaving the cotton cord rubbing against my most sensitive spots.

As the rope went up the back it was also tight against my butt-hole. At some point I was going to try this with a plug in there, or maybe the beads if they ever got bought, and see how the rope rubbing the exterior part of those, and moving it as I walked, made me feel. That wasn’t part of today’s request though, so I’d leave it for another occasion.

I had told him that I’d dress the way he had seen me in his head. It wasn’t given as an instruction, but I’d accepted it as one. Although the popular conception of Scotland is of kilts being worn everywhere that is not the case in most of the country. I’d had a kilt skirt at school and had rarely worn one since then. However, a friend was part of a Scottish country dancing class and had been willing to lend me one. This was the Scottish Rugby team tartan which is patterned with blue squares and green lines boxing them in.

That there had been no comment of a bra was fine with me. I’d sometimes go without anyway, and here the clamps would get in the way. A cable knit sweater (or jumper as they are called in the UK) was not an issue in itself, but I only had one, and it was not the most suitable.

I thought that he’d had in mind the type that had a high collar that my new one could be worn discreetly underneath. Mine was cream and had a bunched neck that sat down loosely over the cleavage rather than being held high. This would leave the new bondage collar in plain sight.

My idea was to lift the wool of the jumper and to use the new collar fastened underneath the fold to hold it up around my neck. The chains with the clamps on fitted reasonably well through gaps in the wool and so down to my nipples that way. The neck didn’t sit quite right and would look a little — or a lot — odd to anyone getting a good look at my attire, but I hoped to avoid that.

Excellent. All that remained was to lift the material up and out of the way, leaving the chains hanging down, and then use the rest of the item the way it was intended. I had nipple clips that I used occasionally, but the big difference here was the ability to turn a screw to make the pressure on the rubber tips increase.

The clamps themselves came down hard on my small pink nipples, and I realised that I should have got them hard first so that they would have resisted the pressure better. Rookie error, and a bloody sore one! I took a moment to admire the chains, and to think about how others would react to seeing me this way, before taking the next step.

Adjustment. There was a small screw on each clip that increased the strength and force being applied. I was happy with the way it was at the moment, although pain was not something I’m normally ‘happy’ about, but I did give each a small twist to test them out and make sure that they worked as they should. They did, making me gasp slightly, and look in wonder at how much further they could be turned.

I had no piercings, but if these were fully applied then it looked like they would almost create one! I liked the look of the chains and would want to wear the collar freely at some point so that I could see it all more clearly. As much as he had liked the look of it online when he had paid for it, I liked what was going on in my head.

I looked… slutty, I suppose. This was a new thing for me. I’d never had any external clothing that signed the way I was. I didn’t count the handcuffs and such in this, of course, as they were only to be worn while things were happening, whereas this was for outdoor, public use. I felt different, and I liked it.

Completing my look with a pair of white heels, I was ready for the road.

Schools had recently broken up for the summer and, anyway, it was early on a Saturday morning, so I didn’t expect the place to be busy as I parked. After locking the car, I put the key under the inside of the front wheel where it should be safe, but out of sight. I had also deliberately left my phone at home, as I didn’t want either that or the car to be easily traceable to me if I got caught in an awkward situation. Both the phone and car would confirm my ID, and that would ruin my life.

I was about to wander around doing sexual matters on school premises, and it would very likely not matter that no pupils were present if this went wrong and the authorities got involved. With no obvious ID, it was possible I could get out of there some way, but if my phone was taken, or dropped, or my car licence plate noted, then I was scuppered.

Using the cars for a little cover, I marched across the car park to the sports centre. I’d been here before and knew that the three-quarter-sized pool would have been in use since early in the day, but that the fitness suite would be closed until 10. That gave me nearly two hours… or at least one giving some leeway for instructors to come in before starting classes.

I couldn’t afford for anyone to get close to me while dressed as, possibly apart from the sweater, I was clearly doing some sort of a role-play of a slightly over-sexualised schoolgirl. The hair in plaits and ribbons, the kilt skirt, and the white tights, all seemed to scream out that I was — and the heels were not exactly helping either. A few years ago I might have passed as an actual pupil dressed weirdly, but, alas, anyone seeing me up close wouldn’t be fooled anymore.

The older lady who was on reception duty was looking down as I came through the automatically opening doors, and I gave her a half-wave as she looked up at my passing by. That also served to hide my face as I, while trying not to look it, hastened through the double doors into the corridor beyond. Right to the pool, and left to the sports halls and the fitness suite.

It was at the far end of a long, large windowed, corridor looking out to the car park, and I planned on using a fire door part way down to make a quick exit later rather than risk meeting anyone near the reception.

While coming across the parking area I’d been looking out for other people and thinking of what I needed to do. Now that I was ‘just’ walking I realised quite how strange the balls this man had bought me were. He’d said to wear heels as it heightened the effects, and I knew that I’d need to wear flats at some point to make a fair comparison.

The overall effect was… weird. Pleasurable in a way, but certainly odd to feel the movement as I walked. Stopping for a second I could still feel them — the internal thing still in motion I assumed — and then as I moved they jiggled again. I swayed my hips more to change this and see what happened. In truth, I’d not been sure what to expect but had assumed something sexier. I was getting a bit of a buzz, a tingle, but that could have been the situation as much as the toys.

I’d had a slight fear that the fitness suite would be locked, but found that not to be the case. I flicked on the overhead lights and was gratified to see everything was as I remember it from my one visit a couple of months before.

Some time ago, I’d seen a photograph online of a nude girl walking on a treadmill. She’d had some sort of chains coming from a collar attaching her to the machine, presumably to keep her in place and ‘force’ her to exercise. When I’d thought of walking with the balls inside me this image had popped back into my head.

At first, I couldn’t get the treadmill to go but then realised it was turned off at the wall socket and, once that was dealt with, it was just fine. My thinking was that out in the ‘real world’ I’d be able to walk but, in here, I could set speed and incline on this thing and test out what worked best for me. I could also do it dressed as I liked and get no come-back!

The wall in front of me was totally mirrored, and I assumed that the room had been used for dance or something in the past. While I was very interested in how I looked as I moved, I couldn’t believe that most of the people using these machines would be, or at least not enough to pay for all of these mirrors.

Varying the speed of the machine didn’t do much for me. Walking in heels was a little tricky anyway, and it was on that that I found myself concentrating, rather than on the toys. I also realised that with the collar hidden I was losing a lot of the effect of that toy as well. I wanted to be able to see the chain from the collar to the nipples. It was great wearing this secretly, feeling the pinch, but I wanted to be able to see for myself.

Stepping off the machine I unclipped my nipples and, before I could feel the full pain of the returning blood flow, had put the chain back through the sweater, removed my top, and re-clamped. I was now topless, and it seemed reasonable to remove the kilt skirt as well. If anyone found me in here then I was cornered, so I might as well be caught all the way.

I admired myself in the mirror. The collar and chains looked fabulous. They were everything that I’d hoped for. I’d never gone in for a slutty look — apart from the odd dress-up role-play sort of thing in private — so doing this touched a different part of me.

The crotch rope was also something radically different to my norm, and I admired the way that looked, tugging it a little in places to get the feel for it. I wasn’t keen on the white tights though. I thought I’d try it with none, or a darker pair, in future.

And next, well, that was where my memory of the photo online came in. I undid the bows from the ribbons plaited into my hair and tied them to the handles of the treadmill just under the hand-grips. My hair stayed in the schoolgirl style, but now I was stuck in place if anyone entered the room. There was no quick escape open to me.

In an ideal world I’d have used a longer ribbon as they did keep me closer to the front of the machine than I’d have liked, but then that was the point — to restrict me and ‘force’ me to keep going, which I did as I turned it back on. I couldn’t quite stand straight and had to make sure I was right at the front of the treadmill as, if I slowed at all, the tug on the ribbons, and so on my hair and scalp, was pretty damn sore.

I watched myself in the mirror. Walking along, virtually naked, and admiring the way I looked. Collar and chains to my nipples — with clamps that I now gave an additional half-turn to, wincing as I did. White tights under the ropes, my heels fully hidden by the machine I was now tied to.

I put my arms behind my back and wished I’d brought cuffs or something to restrain them there, pushing my boobs further out. At some time in the near future I would have to come back here with a slightly modified kit of toys.

What I needed right now was to release the tension that had been building up since before I’d even had my shower at home. After all, it would seem a waste not to use this situation for its full potential. I put my feet to either side of the treadmill whirring below, and, using both hands, I ripped my tights down the front where they passed under the ropes so that my swelling flesh was revealed.

Using one hand to press down on the ropes and cause them to tighten over my clit and outer lips, I used the other to enter in, pushing through the ropes to gain entrance to my own opening. I could feel the cord of the toy in there as I frigged myself, and that added to it, the balls shifting in there as I moved. Added to the feeling of shame, delightful shame, at where I was and what I was doing. Masturbating, while dressed like some kind of a freak in a school fitness centre and delighting in watching my actions in the mirrors as I did so.

At my day job I was a professional and, while not exactly hard-arsed, wanted things done the right way. In private though I loved humiliation in sex. Being caught like this would certainly cause that, and if this was one of my stories then someone would come in the room right now and catch me. Probably use me. I looked at the door, but it didn’t move.

The thought of the degradation and the possible wider consequences of that was enough to take me over the edge. My juices were soon dripping down over my fingers and onto the surface of the treadmill still whizzing away underneath me, the damp spots coming round and round again as I watched.

As the climax hit me I nearly collapsed and would have loved to do so, even if it meant me shooting off the end of the machine. With my hair still tied to the grips though, that wasn’t an option. I’d end up with it being pulled out in clumps as I lay on my belly (which would be rubbed raw, or worse for my clamped nipples) while being pulled backwards. I had to rein myself in enough to keep control until I hit the off button — at which point I did drop to my knees and keep the orgasm going a little longer.

I took my time while sitting there, head resting against the console, touching my body and running my hands over my tingling flesh. I knew that soon my head would go from the pleasure of this moment to the shame of cuming in this setting, and in this way. At that point, I’d just want to slink out of the side door and get to the car.

When I left, I didn’t intend to fool around with the sweater as I had coming in. I’d put it on over the collar and chains and, although its front would drop down leaving those items visible, I didn’t care anymore. Heading out from the school across the car park it seemed safer, less dodgy somehow, than entering the premises. I needed to make my escape and get home.

I need to thank ”J” for making this possible, first by chatting about the subject, but then making the purchase and giving his thoughts on the clothing etc. I hope that he enjoys this piece and that others do as well.

So, to my evaluation of the toys.

The balls I’d give a mid-score to — I need to try them out again and see if I can get them to work better for me. I figure that my expectations were out of kilter and that I’d been believing in something more obvious and immediate. I will try them over short and long distances, and with different footwear as well to find out the angles that work best for me in getting my tingle going.

The collar and clamps I liked. I am sure how and where to wear this again, but certainly will. It had hurt taking the clips off and I’d go easier with the clamp mechanism in future. While I often went around nude in the past — both indoors and out — I rarely dressed in any way that I considered ‘slutty’ and a collar, chains, and clamps certainly came into that category for me. I liked the look this gave me, and the feeling inside my head. A further something to explore.

Unexpectedly though, the other thing I liked was the rope around my nether regions. Both the feel of it (in moving around and holding it), and the knowledge that it was there and others wouldn’t expect it, worked for me. I could do that at work. That also needs further investigation!

The list still exists as it is my personal wish-list of things I’d like one day, things that I intend to buy one day. In all honesty though, I’d much prefer that people buy my novels, subscribe through me to Medium so that I get the commission, or even buy me a ‘coffee’, rather than buy something directly from it. Even send me codes to Amazon vouchers so that I can buy whatever I want. However, if someone really, really, wants the list then maybe, just maybe…

Please don’t forget to clap (up to 50 times) if you enjoyed the story. That is my only way of knowing if this is appreciated!

Check out my profile for other stories and articles, and for more for more of these true adventures check out this list here: