Sandra turned around just in time to see the wall behind Hank's table split into two right in the middle like a secret escape route. Except that instead of a dark dank tunnel, she found herself staring at a literal armory of kink.

Holy, fuck.

Rows and rows of weird implements hung proudly in racks meticulously categorized by size, shape and type. There were truncheons, sticks, whips of every shape, material and color. And they were all well-maintained and ready for immediate use.

Sandra waltzed in, not caring whether Hank objected or not. It was a reasonable oversight on her part, considering how this was a critical juncture of Sandra's journey.

If her first time with Hank was an appetizer, this was more than a full course.

She couldn't even name half the strange implements that lay neatly on the tables. Seemingly random objects fastened together with bits of leather and chain beckoned her inquisitive self towards them, ready to pounce and devour her sexual innocence.

"Uh, Sandra, you don't want to go there."

She looked down. A collar dotted with metal spikes stared back at her.

To Sandra, its attempt at being scary and menacing only made it even cuter.

"Oooh, how cute!" she gushed, picking it up and examining its precise stitching.

"No, don't!" Hank rushed towards her, reaching out to snatch the collar away from her naughty hands.

But it was too late.

She noticed the tag attached to its firm leathery skin.

Sandra.

She read her name off the fine engraving.