Many years ago, I read on a blog that one should buy a toolbox as a sex toy box. One could put a lock on the box and tell the kids it was dangerous tools and thereby keep them out. So after I bought our first toys, my ex bought me a metal toolbox for putting the toys in. However, the one he bought doesn’t have a way to attach a lock so that defeated part of the point. I kept the box anyway since it still served the purpose of storing toys. It lives in my walk-in closet underneath my clothes, and I pull it out when the occasion arises that I need its contents.
Recently the heat of summer has descended upon Central Texas. We’re hitting 90 every day, so I had to quit my denial and pull out shorts which I had packed up for the winter. They were in the back of the closet in storage boxes, requiring digging around to find what I wanted. I moved the toy box out of the way while I rummaged for the shorts, and then I put the storage boxes back in the recesses of the closet, now loaded up with my jeans which I won’t need again for far too long.
What I failed to do was put the stupid metal toy box back away. Instead, as I gathered up the armful of shorts and walked out of the walk-in closet, I managed to whack my leg on the fucking toolbox that I didn’t see on the floor beneath my full arms. I now have a four inch black, blue, and green bruise on my shin that includes a red cut where the box really got me. It’s a veritable kinky rainbow.
It’s not bad enough that I date sadists and let them use sadistic toys on me. I also own a sadistic toy box that attacks and tortures me, too.